Hardest of Hearts
by amongstthesky
Summary: Hermione realizes that something is very off about her enemy, Draco Malfoy, when she arrives at Hogwarts for sixth year, but does not realize the severity of the situation until she stumbles upon him crying in the bathroom. Her helping nature overrides her hate, and her hate eventually develops into something far different. I don't own the graphic. M for future content.
1. Human

**Chapter I - Human**

Hogwarts is different this year for Hermione, she can tell the moment she gets onto the Hogwarts Express. She feels a heavy somber feeling the moment she enters, and all her classmates normally excited and lively faces look somewhat dead. It even rubs off on her a bit, to the point that Ron comments on it. She says that she is just tired. She has never told such a lie in her life.

They walk back to the Prefects compartment without Harry, and Ron speaks then. "I feel bad, you know," he admits. "Leaving Harry to sit alone with Neville and Luna when it's us he needs to talk to. But part of me doesn't since all he will talk about is Malfoy being a Death Eater."

Hermione nods, but says nothing. She does not want to speak poorly of her best friend, but she does agree on the matter. Still, there was something wrong with Malfoy. He has always been rude, but he has never been evil, so why was he in Borgin & Burkes alone, without his mother?

"I'm just glad he isn't a Prefect. He wouldn't shut up about Malfoy after if he had to sit in a compartment with him," Ron continues. "I know he's on edge because of this war, but I think he's stressing himself out more by over analyzing thing. He's bottling things up, too. Like Sirius's death."

"I think it's fair that he keeps it to himself," she replies coolly. "I mean, Harry's been through alot in the past year and he might not want to talk about it, you know? I think that's his way of coping."

"Yeah," Ron concurs, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess so."

Hermione walks into the Prefect's compartment, somewhat unsure about sitting in with the Slytherins again. Last year, a rather fierce argument broke out between her and Pansy Parkinson. Indeed, there Pansy sat, looking haughty as every. She sits down across from her and Draco around the table they would have lunch on and clears her throat, prepared to make a quick comeback at whatever rude comment Malfoy would make about her.

But he makes no comment. He says nothing, just stares at her in a creepy way that makes her skin crawl. His eyes are a light grey that is slightly translucent, and she decides that they are creepy. She thinks they might just be creepy because they are focused how intensely they were staring at her. She has never noticed them until now. He nods to acknowledge her after she met his eyes, which she finds equally as creepy. It seems that he is studying her, but she can not read his expression.

"So," says Ernie McMillan, breaking the silence. "This year is going to be different from the last one by far, but I'm sure you all already know that. There's much more security up at the school, and we're going to have to be more vigilant about our surroundings."

Hermione smirks, reminded of Mad Eye Moody at this ("Constant vigilance!"), but she stops smirking when Malfoy's eyes trail to her again, and he looks away as soon as he notices that she had seen him staring. She fidgets with discomfort in her seat, she is uncomfortable with the way he is staring at her. It is not in judgement, but it is as though she is a potion experiment, or a science project like the ones she had to do in primary school.

"Yeah, McMillan," Malfoy drawls. "We're all very well aware. It's not like we don't read the Prophet, you know. Some of us"- he turns his eyes to the Ravenclaws and then to Hermione and Ron- "Read that rubbish the Quibbler, though, so they might just know about Nargles or whatever the fuck they're called."

"Language," says Hermione without thought.

He arches one of his blonde brows. "I really couldn't care less, Granger."

"Well you should care! We're prefects and we should be setting an example for the other students -

"They're not here," Malfoy interjects. "And I don't really give a shit anyways. It's not like they don't know swear words."

"Alright, alright let's not repeat last year," remarks Hannah Abbot. "There isn't really a need for arguing, after all. We just have to talk about things. Also, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are banned and we have to confiscate them if we see them... pity, they're rather funny."

"I'm just going to keep them for myself," Ernie McMillan shrugs. He earns glares from both Hermione and Hannah, but Ron nods fervently. "What? Don't look at me like that! They're funny."

"How nice for you, Weasley," says Malfoy, grinning. "Your family has actually made some profit off of something. I bought some of their stuff, you know, out of pity. I thought you could use some Galleons in your pockets."

Ron's ears go red the way they always do when he is embarrassed, and Hermione is quick to step in.

"Shut up," she snaps heatedly.

"Like I'd listen to you," he rolls his creepy, creepy eyes.

"I'll report you to Dumbledore," she threatens.

"How very Gryffindor of you, Granger. I would expect nothing less from Gryffindor's little princess, especially when it comes to Weasel," he drawls in a bored tone, taking a sip of the water on the table. She glares daggers at him. "What, have I struck a nerve?"

"You. Are. An. Ass," she emphasizes each word.

"No swearing. You're supposed to be a _role model,_" he is smirking again, and she hates it. She feels a very strong desire to slap him like she had three years prior. She restrains herself, but only just.

She can tell these are going to be a very, very long few hours.

::

Draco returns to his compartment after the Prefect meeting, very smug with the reactions he had pulled from the Gryffindors. He is chuckling to himself as he walks into it with Pansy. He sees Zabini, who nods at him in acknowledgement, but he thinks that he sees a small white flash, taking into note and narrowing his eyes before sitting down.

"How was the meetings with the Gryffindors? Did you hug a Hufflepuff?" sneers Blaise. "I don't know why they let them be prefects. And I get why the Mudblood is a prefect with her grades, but Weasley? You'd think perfect Potter would be a prefect."

"It was boring," whines Pansy. "I mean, we just sat there. And Granger kept being all righteous about everything. 'No swearing'. She kept bugging Draco about everything he said, too."

"Could've been worse. She didn't slap me, after all," Draco shrugs, staring at his nails. "She did bore me though. Her comebacks were rather weak... and by the way, Parkinson, you couldn't possibly have expected us to be playing Quidditch? Of course we were going to sit around!"

"Weasley just sat there the whole time," adds Pansy, ignoring Draco's comment. "With a blank expression. It was pretty predictable. At least that slag Ginny Weasley wasn't made a prefect, I would've whined all day. But Blaise likes her, don't you Blaise? You said she was good looking when we were on the Platform."

"Still a blood traitor, still a Weasley," says Blaise coolly.

"But it's like Draco fancying Granger! I mean honestly -

Draco scrunches his nose up as though he had smelled something foul. "Pansy please never use my name, the word 'fancy', and Granger all in the same sentence."

Blaise chuckles. "At least Weasley's pureblood, I wouldn't feel filthy snogging her... but can you imagine snogging Granger? She probably tastes filthy."

"I don't really want to picture how she tastes, thanks."

Pansy stares at Draco for a moment as though she is going to say something. And she does, eventually. "Is what my father said true? About you?"

Draco had feared that this would come up, and indeed it is coming up as he thought it would. He is proud of the mark on his arm, and that he has it so young, but the burden placed on him by taking it is not something he enjoys speaking of. "Very true, Parkinson, but that's not really any of your business, now is it?"

She turns a light shade of crimson. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven, but I wouldn't nose your way into business that has nothing to do with you," Draco says coolly. "I'm sure that my master wouldn't want to hear that you were badgering me for information."

"You're - you're right," stutters Pansy.

He rolls his eyes at her. He has never really liked Pansy. He has tolerated her, but only just. In fact, the only thing he agrees with Granger on is her view of Pansy. She is indeed as vain as everyone says, and she is constantly bitching about something. She pursues Draco without end and basically worships the ground he walks on. This annoys him, and it annoys him most when she agrees with everything he says though she does not really agree.

Draco is curious about Granger now. He wonders if she is human at all, as he has always been taught that she is nothing more than a Mudblood. It is a dirty and wrong curiosity, he thinks, but he can not help but study her to see if she is human. Blood Status is something he is beginning to question, and he is very frightened by that realization. He still hates Granger. He knows that much. But maybe she is human. A very annoying, snobby, arrogant, know-it-all, prudish, irritating, stubborn human... but still a human.

"You should eventually learn how to grow a backbone," Blaise suggests to Pansy, saying exactly what was going through Draco's head. "You might need one when you serve the cause, you know."

The train pulls to a stop then, and Draco looks up at the luggage rack, where he had seen the white flash. "You guys go on," he directs. "I just want to check something."

They obey, and once they are gone he shuts the blinds, narrowing his eyes. "_Petrificus Totalus_," he drawls after a few moments, and he find it is exactly what he had expected. Potter was spying on him, the bastard. He smirks. "You think you're so smooth. Harry Potter, the hero of the wizarding world... How very brave you are, what you did at the Ministry. Some might call it stupid. You Gryffindors. My father told me all about it see. Did you cry when you lost that mangy mutt of yours? It was all your fault too, you walked right into their trap,

"By the way, I think my father deserves to be avenged. He's locked up now all because of your loud mouth. You've besmirched the Malfoy name. So I'm going to give you this."

He steps on Potter's nose then, feeling it crunch beneath his foot and smirking. He puts the Invisibility Cloak over Potter again so he is not found, and chuckles to himself as he leaves the train. He only hopes his plan follows through, that way Harry Potter is silenced, the way he deserves to be.

But it is not because he misses his father, it is because he now needs to take his father's place. It is because now he is burdened and trapped, and it is all Potter's fault.

He is crying when he leaves the train, and has to work very hard to regain his composure as he enters the Great Hall.

::

Hermione fixes her eyes on Malfoy during the feast, very uneasy. She does not like that he hasn't insulted her. She does not like the way he is not smirking as much as he normally does or abusing his power as a prefect. She does not like that his eyes were fixed on her at the lunch on the train. She knows he is up to something, and she is only more fixed on him as she notices that Harry is missing.

He is staring at her, too. She does not like this, either, and she feels very uncomfortable with their eye contact. She narrows her eyes and mouths 'what?' and he just smirks at her, still staring at her.

Their eye contact is broken, however, when Harry enters just after the sorting. It is dramatic, as the whole room is silent at the time. All eyes turn to him and whispers break out through the hall. His shirt is covered in blood and he looks rather disheveled He enters with Snape, too, so it can't have been good.

Harry takes his seat next to Hermione and whispers "Malfoy broke my nose" to her and Ron.

She notices that Malfoy looks rather smug, and that he is miming something to do with a nose. She glares at him, but his smirk only grows when she does, and he continues miming it more fervently.

_I hope he's a Death Eater,_ she thinks grudgingly._ I hope he is so that he can meet the same fate as the other Death Eaters who screw up. I hope Voldemort bullies him, and I hope that he is evil, just so I can hate him that much more._

::

She groans when she realizes that she has nearly every class with him, and she feels a strong urge to storm out of Transfiguration when he is assigned to be her partner for the rest of the year.

But he is not as bad as she thought, she notices bitterly. She is surprised by this, but he is not. He does not make a dramatic protest when McGonagall assigns them together. Pansy Parkinson looks as shocked by this as Hermione. He says nothing to her half the class period, simply watches her work and does not even make rude comments to her. He does not sneer at her like he usually does.

She does not like this change in him, she feels as though she should be guilty for loathing him when he is making no complaint of her while she whines so fervently about him.

"Typical, Granger. Of course you know everything," he says, finally breaking the silence and smirking that damn smirk. "Didn't Lupin call you the Brightest Witch of Your Age? You must've been proud. I remember when you failed the boggart test, though. It's funny how you saw McGonagall failing you."

"You probably saw your head deflating," she snaps.

"I did," he lies, not wanting to reveal what he really saw, though he knows she is not serious. "It was very traumatic. Haven't been the same since."

"I bet."

He just smiles and laughs under his breath. He actually smiles. She does not like this one bit. She does not like the way that she thinks he is attractive when he does so, and she definitely does not like the way that he is directing it at her.

"Bet yours was traumatic as well."

She says nothing and turns a faint shade of pink. She doesn't really want to be partners with him, and she does not want to talk to him because it is so creepy. He is beginning to creep her out because he is so different, and he has not insulted her. He looks rather stressed, as well. He looks very stressed indeed.

"Insult me," she blurts out.

"I will only if I want to. I don't take orders from you," he says.

"You always want to insult me."

He shrugs and returns his attention to the plate, which he easily transfigures into a bird. He does not smirk or boast when he does.

"Who are you and what have you done with Malfoy?" she says, frowning.

"I didn't know you payed so much attention to me. I would say I'm flattered, but I'm not".

She blushes again and returns her attention to the bird on her desk that she transfigured and she turns it back into a plate. "Good, because the last thing you need is for your ego to grow even larger. You might drown in the abundance of it, not that I would complain".

"That almost hurt my feelings, try a little harder," he purses his lips. "And my ego is growing every minute."

"I have to work with you for the whole year," she groans. "I don't want to."

"I'm hardly happy with this arrangement either. I could do with a break of your presence, as the only thing I don't have with you is Muggle Studies, which I'm not taking."

He does not comment on Muggles at all when he says this, and now she is beginning to seriously question that he is Draco Malfoy. She is almost offended by this change in him, and she is looking at him with distrust, narrowing her brown eyes.

Yes, she decides, Draco Malfoy is definitely up to something.

::

In Herbology, he decides that she is a human being. He is unsure what exactly causes this transition, but yes, she is a human being. He views her to be a human being. He thinks he might be insane, and that he might be losing his mind, which he probably is.

He proceeds to realize that his views on Mudbloods were never his own.

He thinks of what Voldemort would do if he found out that he viewed Mudbloods to be people and shudders.

::

Hermione meets Horace Slughorn in Potions, which is the man Harry had talked about in the summer. Harry is in her Potions class, and so is Ron, which she is happy with. She has not expected them to be in it, as they did not have an 'O' on their OWLS.

And yet still, she is assigned to the cauldron next to Draco's, but she is very glad that she has Ernie on the other side of her.

"I want some house unity here, so I'm mixing it up," says Slughorn happily. He then assigns Ron next to Pansy Parkinson.

"Professor," Pansy whines. Draco sighs a long exasperated sigh and Hermione giggles. He looks at her and arches an eyebrow. "I don't want to be next to Weasley! He'll blow up a cauldron!"

"So will you, probably," says Ernie McMillan, grinning. Hermione looks at him to show her appreciation for his comment.

"Now, now, house unity is important!" Slughorn says, suddenly very stern and serious. "It is very necessary in these times... the very dark times we're in."

"If you're expecting me to be all friendly with Granger, or to hug Ernie McMillan, you will be very disappointed," Draco remarks.

"Alright, alright, enough!" Slughorn demands. "I'd like to go on with the lesson, and if you don't you can leave the room, but don't expect to come back. Now, gather 'round the table and someone please tell me what they are."

Hermione immediately recognizes Amortentia, and feels slightly uncomfortable that she is standing next to Ernie and Malfoy. She is curious, and she breathes in the aroma, and she is surprised by what she smells. She smells new parchment, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste. This is when her hand flies up into the air.

"Alright, Miss... Granger is it?" Slughorn is questioning at the end. She wonders how he even knows her name.

"Well, sir, the one on the far left is Amortentia. It's a powerful love potion, the most powerful in the world, actually. It's quite easy to tell by the spiralling steam," she replies easily.

"Precisely!" exclaims Slughorn. "I'm assuming that you know what the other two are, then?"

"The one in the middle is Polyjuice," she answers, smirking smugly at Harry and Ron, who are across the room. Her smugness fades quickly, however, when she realizes exactly who she is standing next to."It allows you to change into any human being you want for exactly an hour, if you add their hair of course."

Slughorn nods and grins, turning to Harry. "Was she the Muggleborn you were speaking of when you said you had a friend that was the brightest witch in your year?"

Harry nods. "Yes, sir."

The professor turns back to her again, still smiling. "Now what is this last one... surely you know?"

"Felix Felicis, sir," Hermione says immediately. "It's liquid luck. It allows the drinker to have everything go their way, but the amount of time depends on the dose. You can't drink it every day, though, or you'll experience side effects... it's not for frequent use, and it's illegal to use at sporting events or during exams."

"Of course, of course," Slughorn agrees, patting Hermione's back fondly. "Well today, whoever can brew me the best Draught of Living Death is going to win this little bottle! 24 hours of luck in whatever task you attempt. You have the rest of the period starting... NOW!"

Hermione notices that Draco tenses, as though he is unsure about something before turning the pages of his book frantically. Hermione is impassive, not feeling as though she really needs luck for anything, and she opens the book to the page. She wants to do well, though. She wants to impress Slughorn.

Draco is smirking at her as she reads the instructions, and it is distracting. She looks up and arches an eyebrow. "Do you need anything?" she asks a little too harshly. She is irritated with him simply because he is acting as though he does not hate her, and she is quite sure that he does.

"No, I was just thinking," he grins. "I was thinking about how it would figure that you would know all the answers... I mean, you do know everything after all. Is reading all you do in your spare time?"

She scowls at him. "Would you please stop talking to me?"

"Why?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Because it's creepy! You don't talk to me! You've never talked to me unless you're insulting me -

"I told you to keep your head down at the Quidditch World Cup," he shrugs casually. "That counts as something, doesn't it?"

She looks down at the Sophorus bean that she is currently cutting for her potion and doesn't reply to this, as she is unsure of what to say. She has always been confused about why he had said that to her, but does not have the courage to ask him.

Hermione becomes frustrated with the potion they are making quickly, and even more frustrated when she sees that Harry's potion is much better than hers. Harry has never been spectacular in Potions and she is confused by this. She curses under her breath when her potion can not seem to get down to the lavender describe and is still a dark purple. She looks to Draco's cauldron then, and sees that his is indeed lavender.

"Time's up!" Slughorn declares.

He then begins walking around the room, stopping for a moment at Draco's cauldron and nodding in approval. He does the same at Hermione's, but he stops at Harry's cauldron and lingers before grinning.

"Harry m'boy! I never knew you were such a whiz at Potions! You must have inherited it from your mother!"

Slughorn only continues from there praising Harry for a good fifteen minutes, leaving most of the class bored and irritated. They were all confused on how Harry got so good. Slughorn finally finishes by handing Harry the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis.

"Potter's never been good at Potions," Draco mutters in a bitter tone as he looks down at his own. His is the perfect clear color the book describes.

Hermione fixes her eyes on Harry and frowns. Something is up, she decides. And not just with Malfoy.

::

Draco has definitely not been anticipating Hermione to corner him in the Entrance Hall after dinner in the Great Hall, but he has not been expecting to believe her to be human, either. She approaches him quickly, and gets straight to her point. He likes this about her, he admits reluctantly, he likes that she is blunt and gets straight to the point of things rather than beating around the bush.

"Something's up with you," she says firmly, narrowing her eyes. "You haven't been insulting me, and you haven't been acting the same as you used to. I swear that you're not really Draco Malfoy because the Malfoy I know would never go a day without insulting someone."

"I wasn't aware that you knew me so well, Granger," he quips. "Tell me what else I don't know about myself, since we've been lifelong friends."

"You keep staring at me! It's creepy!" she mutters, blushing. "Your eyes kind of creep me out and just the fact that you look at me! You're plotting something!"

"Because my eyes are supposedly focused on you? Just because I'm looking at you means I'm plotting something evil. 'Course."

But plotting he is. He curses himself for it, though she is not involved. He doesn't like that he is being forced to kill another man, particularly one so gentle. He secretly thinks that he will not go through with it.

"Fucking say something rude!" she hisses. "Anything! It isn't natural, you can't live without insulting me half the t-

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger," he retorts in a cool tone.

She narrows her eyes. "I'm going to figure it out, you know," she whispers. Her eyes flicker down to the place where his Dark Mark is under his sleeve, and he tenses in discomfort. "I'm going to figure out what's wrong with you."

"Well you should've worked harder and won that Felix in potions, then," he replies. "You're going to need it to find out what I'm up to".

He walks away then without mentioning that he is going to need it for what he is up to. He hates Slughorn and his favoritism for that. But he sighs, the thought crossing his mind that he would likely have not taken the potion anyways.

He spends the rest of the night muttering to himself about how this is all a nightmare, and how he will soon wake up.

He does not wake up from this nightmare, and instead falls asleep to enter a different, and far worse one.

::

Ginny is enraged at Harry when she finds out that he used writing in a Potions book to do his work. Hermione is slightly enraged, but hers are not honorable like Ginny's. She does not want to admit her reasons, simply because they will smirk at her and say that they knew it all along.

She sneaks off to the library in a petty attempt to find some sort of escape from the bickering of her friends. She is relaxed at first, and she feels somewhat at ease, but she feels herself become anxious and tense like before when she notices Malfoy at one of the tables across the room from her, staring intently.

She finds it hard to focus with his eyes on her.

She decides that his eyes are not creepy.

She decides that they are not creepy in the slightest.

::

She is frustrated with Potions class as a whole. She is frustrated by Harry's sudden pseudo gift at Potions, and she is frustrated with her seating arrangement. The thing that makes her the most enraged, however, is that her classmates are looking to Harry for advice rather than her.

"I don't think it would be very productive to murder Potter, Granger," Malfoy chuckles.

She averts her glare away from Harry and to the irritating blond beside her. "Why the hell do you think I want to murder one of my best friends?"

"You've killed him multiple times with your eyes already. You look violent."

"I assure you, I am anything but violent."

Draco laughs quietly under his breath. "I would somehow not be surprised if you ended up murdering someone for beating you in your N.E.W.T.S. The way you're looking at Potter... but hey, I'll help out if you want to hex him."

"Do you think my eyes are creepy?" she asks without any thought. Draco makes an odd face and looks at her as though she is crazy. "Don't look at me like that."

He is studying her, which is making her feel awkward about the whole situation. But when he speaks, his tone is casual. "You're quite odd, you know," he shrugs then.

"We're all a little odd now," she hums in reply. "You're speaking to me."

Draco leans over her cauldron and grins. "Not bad, Granger".

She looks down at his, which seems to be entirely wrong, but to be fair he had been distracted while he had made it. "Wish I could same for yours, Malfoy."

"We can't all be perfect."

"Did you just imply that I'm-

He groans. "Just forget I ever said it."

"I told you I was smart!" she exclaims, grinning. A few people in the room are giving her an odd look that mirrors the one that Draco had directed at her just a few minutes before.

The corners of his mouth twist up slightly at the corners. "We all know, Granger. There's no need to shout it to the whole school".

She turns pink, and he just laughs at her again.

::

He is icing his face in the hospital wing at the Friday, the end of only his first week. He had given in, and he had called her a Mudblood. They argued for quite some time before he made some sort of comment about her suspected love affair with Weasley, and she just snapped. She had struck him across the face again.

He knows she is not a violent person, and that she is not like this. He is curious why he fills her with so much passion; enough for Hermione Granger, liberator of house elves, to hit him.

The following day, it is Saturday and he does not take his eyes off her whenever he sees her. He is determined to figure out how Hermione Granger works, a project that he is now putting in front of the main task at hand.

He thinks he might like her, in a friendly way, that still shouldn't exist regardless.

::

He is soon reminded that he does indeed hate Hermione Granger when she cold shoulders him for the coming days, and that some things will never change. The hate for her has only lessened slightly. Wednesday morning, he passes her in the Entrance Hall on the way to breakfast and makes a snarky comment about her hair. She replies quickly with "'You just hate me because I bruised your pride. You expected me to hit you about as much as you expect to fall in love with Pansy Parkinson."

He can not help but chuckle, though.

He is still aloud to think she was funny, even though he hated her, right?

But then he reminds himself that he is Draco Malfoy, the Malfoy heir, and that Hermione Granger was a Mudblood, and that he will be punished if he as so much as says 'hello' to her.

He chuckles anyways.

::

"I'm sorry for... you know, punching you," she mumbles after dinner of the same day he chuckles at the retort she had thrown at him. "It wasn't right for me to do that."

He bursts out laughing, to her surprise. "I think you had every right to do that. I would've probably hit me, too."

"Truce then?" she asks, reaching out her hand for a handshake. He eyes it but does not grab it. She glares at him. "What?"

"I don't really have the slightest desire to touch your hand, Granger. Or any part of you, in all honesty."

She turns pink, as that had indeed been her intention with the handshake in the first place. She still does not believe that this is Draco Malfoy, and she wants to feel at least some sort of proof. She finally accepts that this is not the reason when she realizes that she has never touched him except for slapping.

"I don't really want to touch yours either," she lies, turning even pinker.

"Truce, then?" he smirks his signature smirk.

She laughs for a moment. "Truce, then," she agrees, nodding.

"Have you given up on trying to find out what I'm up to?" he inquires. He is unsure why, but he wants her to keep trying. He wants her to care what he's up to, because no one else seems to at all. He wants her to worry for him, as selfish as it is, and how wrong it is.

"Never," she replies, staring at his sleeve-covered forearm again.

She wonders if she can help at all if he is a Death Eater, or if she can change his beliefs. But she notes that he would not be talking to her at all if they were all still the same.

_I'll help him_, she thinks._ I'll help him because even if he has a Dark Mark, and even if he is rude and arrogant and many other things, Draco Malfoy is not a Death Eater._

* * *

**Author's Note**

I did an evil thing and started this fic while finishing up another one. Oops... oh well. But yeah, to be fair, I am almost one with Greys. VERY close to done. Well, I hope you enjoyed this haha I was like addicted to writing it. That is why I'm up at 1 in the morning without caffeine, sitting at the computer and craving a thai iced tea... well I'll talk to you guys later.

PS: Please don't give me any grief about things that I _know _didn't happen in the book. Hermione and Draco didn't end up together in the book either, and if you ship Dramione you should think outside the lines. I'll be staying very close to the HBP plotline, but some adjustments have, and obviously will be, made.


	2. You Aren't Evil

**Chapter II - "You Aren't Evil"**

She does not know what she expects to find in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but she is sick of doing rounds in the hallways on Prefect duty at three o'clock in the morning, and she would like to at least sit down for a moment.

She hears sobbing, but she dismisses it to simply be Myrtle. She enters and stands in the doorway for a moment, to find she is entirely wrong.

She runs out of the bathroom and there's a call of "Who's there?" after her from the male voice.

The male voice belongs to Draco Malfoy, and she is unsure how she feels about the fact that she just saw Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin, crying. In her dash back towards her common room, she blindly runs directly into Ernie McMillan on one of the staircases.

"You should be more careful, Granger," he says, grinning at first, but narrowing his eyes when he notices that she seems to be in complete disarray. "What the hell happened to you? You look as if You-Know-Who just got in."

She realizes that she is breathing rather heavily from running, and that he has surely noticed this. "I just - I just um... ran into Peeves and I just barely got away... he was um... he was throwing books at me" she lies. It sounds stupid even to her, but she is a Gryffindor through and through, and she is far too guilty to tell a convincing lie, even when she needs to.

"Mmhm," Ernie's eyes narrow even more, as if he is studying her. "Are you sure about that?"

"Very," she lies again, slightly more convincingly. It is still not enough, though, and she can practically feel his eyes following her all the way up the stairs to her tower.

But she does not get rest when she arrives back to the tower. She has just seen Malfoy crying, and that is not exactly something that she can fall asleep knowing.

::

Draco is not sure if he is more concerned about the fact that someone has seen him crying, or about the fact that he was crying in the first place. He has never been one to cry at well, anything really. Whenever he had cried as a child, his father would punish him in a rather uncivil method involving his deranged aunt. He has been taught not to cry, but he seems to forget every lesson he has ever learned on how not to. He does not like the person he is being forced to become, and he does not want to kill Dumbledore.

He feels crushed by the weight of it all, and it is agonizing. It is as though he is being suffocated, but it is much, much slower. He is cracking under the pressure, and he has not even begun working on the Vanishing Cabinet yet.

Draco is disgusted with his past self for wanting this. He is disgusted that he had actually thought that he wanted to kill Mudbloods and blood traitors without giving it any thought at all. Now he is forced to give it thought, and now he realizes that he has been entirely wrong the whole time.

He punches his pillow in frustration and begins to cry again when he sees his Dark Mark; a dark, ugly blemish on his otherwise flawless ivory skin

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy feels weak. For the first time in his life Draco Malfoy loathes himself. He loathes himself much more than he has ever loathed a Mudblood, or a blood traitor. As far as he is concerned, that is saying something.

::

Hermione is developing a soft spot for him, some sort of pity along with it, and she does not like it at all. She does not want to feel bad for Draco Malfoy, the boy who has bullied her for years upon years, but her emotions betray her. She can not look at him now without thinking of him, hunching over the sink and sobbing.

The worst thing is that she knows she can not confront him about it, and she can not ask him what is wrong, because then he will know that she knows, and that would make things very awkward between them.

He is beginning to notice her, and she notices this by little glances he throws her way and little supportive remarks (with some sort of teasing in them) he makes during class. But she is positive after he grins at her with some sort of sympathy as she taps the table nervously. She is nervous for the war, and she has had many nightmares about it.

"Relax, Granger," he drawls under his breath so McGonagall does not hear him. "If you become any more anxious, you might explode. You've been tapping that damn desk all of her boring lecture. I thought you were bored at first, but you're tense. Just relax."

"Why do you care if I'm relaxed?" she hisses back when McGonagall turns away, raising her eyebrows. She is caught off guard by his comment, as she did not expect it.

"I don't," he smirks and silent laughter shakes his shoulders. "I care that that noise is driving me up the wall, and I don't really fancy having a headache today."

"Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, if you would please stop talking," Professor McGonagall bellows. "I presumed with the seating arrangement, I wouldn't have had a problem, but apparently I was wrong."

"You're not wrong, Professor," says Malfoy smugly, and quite loudly. "I was just telling Granger to stop being irritating."

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy."

A few of the Slytherins snicker, and Hermione glares daggers at him. She does not talk for the rest of Transfiguration, because she worries that if she does she might end up accidentally transfiguring him into a ferret.

::

She is growing increasingly irritated with him as the day goes on, and her irritation is at an all time peak when they are at the last class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. It is bad enough that Snape teaches the class, but the irritation that she felt already makes her dislike for the class only intensify. She is only thankful that Snape does not assign seats, and that she can take her seat between Harry and Ron.

"Malfoy is so irritating," she hisses.

"Oh wow, what a shocker," Ron drawls, his tone rich with sarcasm. "Because it's not like we figured that out our first day with him."

"You're not helping, Ronald," Hermione mutters grudgingly. "You aren't the one who has to sit by him in almost everything and put up with his constant comments about anything you do wrong. And he told me to relax. The nerve of him! How the hell does he know how I'm feeling?"

Harry raises his eyebrows. "I think that he might have a point about that, Hermione."

"Talking about me, Granger?" Malfoy mumbles from behind her. "I'm slightly touched that you care so deeply about me."

"Shut up, Malfoy," she snaps.

"Oh yeah?" he raises his eyes, smirking for what must have been the hundredth time that day. "And why should I do that?"

"I know something" she replies without thought. Harry and Ron exchange an odd look. "I know something about you, and I can tell everyone if I'd like to, and I haven't told them."

"Sure".

"Well we'll see who is being honest when the time comes where I am annoyed to the point that I am compelled to tell."

She sees the color leave his features, and she is quite sure that he suspects exactly what she is talking about to be what she knows. He narrows his eyes. "Fair enough, Granger."

Snape enters the room then, and takes points from Gryffindor from talking. Malfoy snickers, and Hermione tells him off, only earning her a detention. She does not have to turn behind her to know he is smirking.

::

Draco decides to enter the Room of Requirement while he is supposed to be in the Great Hall eating dinner, making sure he is alone before thinking frantically, 'I need the place where things are kept hidden'. An oak door forms in the wall then, and he enters it after one final check that the hallway is empty.

He exhales sharply as he approaches the Vanishing Cabinet nervously. He has no clue where to begin at all, so he just stares at it, clueless, and now only more frightened that he will not go through with this.

::

She notices that Malfoy is not at dinner when Harry points it out. Harry has been sharing all his theories about Malfoy with her nonstop ever since she had expressed her irritation with him in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She regrets it now, as she is beginning to consider some of them. She dismisses each one with a grain of salt aloud, though. She is careful not to let slip that he was crying the night before, because she feels that it is far too private to speak of, no matter how much she detests him.

::

She is curious, so she returns to the bathroom again that night. She is unsure whether he will be there again, but he is. This time, he is not alone; he is talking to Moaning Myrtle. "Draco, if you just tell me what's wrong I can help you-

"I can't tell anyone, I can't. If I do I'll - I just can't, okay?" he mumbles, still sobbing. "Just leave me alone. Why do you think that I would want help from a Mudblood?"

He is insincere, because he wants help more than anything, no matter who it is from. But nevertheless, Hermione does not know that he is insincere, and she takes that for all she needs. She leaves again, and she isn't sympathetic this time; she is only infuriated.

::

Watching him as he cries has become routine to her, and she isn't quite sure why. She is still doing it, despite what she had heard. She longs to help him, the boy his is just a few feet away from her, it is her nature. But she can't succumb because the boy is Draco Malfoy, someone that she and her friends all consider to be the enemy. Something about his sobs is very real and painful, and they indeed assure her that he is Draco Malfoy, and that he is right that she has never really known him at all.

She has been doing it for the past four days, but she is going to make sure that this night, Friday night, was the last time. She has to study for final exams, though they are months away, and it only three weeks into September.

He goes silent eventually, but he is still shaking and holding the sink for support. Damn, she wants to help him. But damn, it is so wrong, and it is so irrational.

Finally, she leaves, deciding that she does not want to watch someone in so much anguish and not be able to say anything about it.

::

"Where do you go at night, Draco?" Pansy asks the next morning, and Draco groans. This is hardly the way he wants to start out the weekend. "You have been gone".

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," he lies, arching an eyebrow for effect.

"Well, you haven't been on patrol with me, and you haven't been in your bed either, according to Blaise, so you have to be somewhere, right?"

For some reason, Draco does not believe that Blaise is the one that has told her; it is too much like Pansy to go into the boys dormitory just to spy on him, and this creeps him out a bit. He is uncomfortable now, and he is squirming slightly in one of the comfortable Common Room leather living chairs.

"Tell me, Draco," she demands. "You shouldn't be out after hours like that, and missing patrols... Dumbledore will have your badge."

"I don't really give a shit about being a Prefect, Pansy," he retorts. "And since when do I let other people boss me around, either?"

"You should at least tell me why you're skiving off on your duties."

"All you're concerned about is whether I'm out shagging someone, and the answer is no," he says tonelessly. She seems to relax at this, which makes him feel even more discomfort. "And if you expect me to provide you with any more explanation than that, you're getting your hopes far too high."

"Well, there's been a curious rumor about you shagging Lavender Brown, but I didn't exactly -

He spits out the pumpkin juice he is drinking all over the table. "Wh-what?" he sputters. "Shagging Brown? What the fuck? I don't think I've said a word to the slag in my life."

"Blaise shagged her," Pansy supplies matter-of-factly. "So did Nott."

He snorts. "Who hasn't shagged her? But for some strange reason" he drawls, "I don't really think that I wanted those images in my head, Pansy. But you know, take a guess why."

"He's your best mate?"

"Precisely," says Draco coolly.

"What happened to Crabbe and Goyle? Didn't you three used to be joined at the hip? There used to be rumors about that as well... You see, some Hufflepuffs took it to be more literal context. Not that anyone would ever shag Crabbe and Goyle-

"I do not need this information."

"Someone even said that you've been with the ugly Mudblood, Granger".

"She's not ugly," he shrugs impassively, but he is not as impassive when he realizes what he had just said, and to whom.

Pansy raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, her lips parted in shock. "Please tell me that I heard that wrong."

"She's not ugly for a Mudblood," he says smoothly. If there is anything he is good at, it is making a smooth recovery from uncomfortable situations. He is glad that he is blessed with the charisma of a Slytherin.

"Yeah, you're right," Pansy agrees. "I mean, look at Justin Finch-Fletchley."

He chuckles under his breath and begins to read the Prophet, or at least pretend to. He doesn't have the slightest desire to talk to Parkinson right now. He has got to think, and think quite hard.

He has just said that Hermione Granger is not ugly. But even worse, he finds himself thinking that it's true.

::

Hermione is angry at him, perhaps even more so than usual. She is sick of him calling her out for every mistake she makes in class and perhaps she decides she wants to provoke him as much as she can in their free period after Potions on Monday afternoon. She is very angry when she approaches him in the corridor, and she does not care that his little cronies are surrounding them. But they depart when he shoos them, looking almost frightened, as though he knew what she was about to say to him.

He puts on his his game face anyways, smirking and looking at her as though he is superior, as always. "Well, well, Granger. It seems that lately you can't get enough of my company."

"Oh I think I have plenty of your company, Malfoy, and I think that you're a vile human being who pokes at everyone's mistakes-

"I think it's entertaining to see you not be the best this year, in all honesty."

"That is not tr-

"Must suck to be you, Granger. The precious Chosen One outshines even you now," he smirks that damned 'i'm-better-than-you' smirk that she loathes, simply because he knows she loathes it.

She raises her eyebrows. "Must suck to be you, Malfoy. Wallowing in your own self pity and picking at other people for their own problems when you're a wreck yourself."

"Oh yeah, if you're so smart then, tell me why you're so sure that I loathe myself," he demands in a snappy tone.

"I saw you in the bathroom last week. I saw you," she admits, her cheeks flushing a light shade of crimson.

His pupil dilate and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. "This conversation has ended, Granger."

He begins walking off then in a haste, near running, bumping into a few first years in the process. He hears a call of 'Malfoy, wait' from behind him, but he does not look back. The last person he wants pity from is the Mudblood, Granger.

The Mudblood that is human, and compassionate, and trying to help him. He does not know exactly why he won't just take the help at first, but then he realizes that spilling that he is a Death Eater to Granger is basically turning yourself into Azkaban.

He sits down on the grass just outside the school, leaning up against one of the castle walls and hyperventilating. He is startled by her, and he has a mixture of wanting her to care and not wanting her help. But most of all, he does not want her to go around telling people, as someone may let slip to his father about his reluctance on his mission. He plays out a thousand different scenarios in his head before crying into his knees.

::

He is colder towards her now, and it does not take long for her to notice. He has shut up some sort of wall between them since he had found out that she has seen him crying. He treats her differently now, too. He is never smirking anymore around her, even.

He is determined to avoid speaking to her, to avoid making eye contact her, to avoid her as a whole. His schedule makes it prove difficult, but he is determined. She has seen him vulnerable, and that is a red flag for him. He can't be around someone who has seen him like that, especially in a time like this. Especially because of who she is and what she is.

She attempts to make small talk with him during a few of his classes, but he acts as though he can't hear her without the slightest twinge of regret. She begins to wonder if he has gone deaf, or gone mute, but glares at him when he answers Professor Snape's question with his voice and hearing completely normal and intact.

"You can stop ignoring me, you know."

"I don't like you at all, Granger. I find you to be irritating, selfish, prudish, frustrating, stubborn, argumentative, hot headed, egoistic -

"Thinking all of those things didn't stop you from talking to me before, Draco, and you know that," she interjects. "You don't like that I saw you when you were vulnerable, and it's that simple."

"Things are never as simple as they seem anymore, Granger," is his reply, simply because there is so much going on in his head keeping him from talking to her. She is a Mudblood, she is on the other side, she is pure and clean while he is filthy, and she is human in his eyes now.

::

Hermione notices that on Thursday morning, his eyes are swollen and puffy, with large bags under them. She is hesitant to speak to him in Transfiguration, but she does so anyways "Malfoy, are you alright?"

"Don't act like you care, Granger," he grunts back. "You'll only embarrass yourself. Even little angelic Hermione Granger can't care about someone like me."

"Well I do-

"You care about what I'm up to. You care about why I am treating you differently," he argues. "But you do not care about me. No one really does."

"I'm s-

"Don't you fucking dare apologize," he snaps. "Don't you dare. You have no right to apologize for what you don't understand. You don't know anything about what's going on."

"Well perhaps you could tell me then instead of reprimanding me for it-

"Shut up, Granger, I don't want your fucking help. I don't want to have a little social experiment talking to a Mudblood, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your stupid feigned pity over what goes on in my life."

"You're pathetic," she hisses. "You are prejudiced, and cruel and arrogant-

"And that is why you don't pity me. You just answered the question for yourself. You can't pity someone you despise."

"I don't despise you as much as I despise Voldemort."

Draco flinches at hearing his name, and he thinks that she notices, but she does not comment on it. He has to take a moment to catch his breath again, to slow down his frantic heartbeat. He then thinks of what he is doing, and what he will have done regardless if he fails or not. If he fails, someone dies. If he succeeds, someone dies. He shivers, but not because it is cold. "You should."

"I know," she agrees. "I should. But I don't, Malfoy, and if you want to talk to someone about what's going on that isn't me just go see Dumbledore."

He flinches again, and she narrows her eyes this time. He is agitated to be on this topic in a room with so many ears to hear them. "I don't want to fucking talk to someone."

"Fine, drown in your own self-pity for all I care," Hermione retorts.

He glares at her before looking down at the essay he is writing. When she is quite sure he does not notice her, she studies him again. His skin has a slight undertone of grey, and he looks sickly. He is far more thin than he was even before. He looks sickly, and he looks worried. He startles her then, looking up from his paper and over at her, arching an eyebrow. "Are you done looking at me like a pity case?"

"Isn't that what you are?"

"Fuck off, Granger."

::

It is late, her and Harry are the only ones left in the deserted common room. The only noise is the crackling of the fire, and the sound of rain against the large windows. It must be at least two o'clock in the morning. Harry is giving her an odd look while she reads in the common room, and she does not like it. She has known for a few minutes, but she is trying to ignore it. Finally, she gives in and looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. "Can I help you?"

"Why do you talk to Malfoy so much?" he asks. "I mean... It's odd. You've gotten in trouble for talking in class, and you've even been threatened with detention but yet you still do it. Why?"

She bites her lip. She would love to tell Harry about what she has seen, and to explain every peculiar thing going on, but she feels that it isn't right to share this when she isn't even supposed to know in the first place. "I can't tell you that, Harry," she sighs. "It's his own personal matters-

"So you and Malfoy are all buddy buddy now?"

Hermione groans. "No, that's not what I meant, and we are anything but buddy buddy. We argue all the time, and he calls me a Mudblood still, and he refuses any help I offer him."

"For?" Harry arches a brow.

"It's not exactly my secret to tell," she sighs. "It isn't my secret to tell at all, actually. I'm probably the only one who knows."

"He's a Death Eater?" asks Harry, almost hopefully.

"Are you daft, Harry?" she questions, appalled by the idea at all. "If he was a Death Eater, I would have told Dumbledore immediately He's not a Death Eater, at least I don't think he is, but something's off".

"Just tell me, Hermione," he sighs.

"You'll tell Ronald," she accuses, pointing a finger at him as though he is already guilty. "You will definitely tell Ronald, and he'll make sure the whole school finds out and I don't think that's very fair."

"I won't tell Ron, Hermione. Ron isn't that bad of a guy either, it's not like he tries to ruin people's lives for fun."

"Yes, but this is Malfoy," she counters.

"Yes, this is Malfoy," Harry agrees.

They wait in silence for a few minutes, and Harry can almost physically feel her thinking in the chair across from him. He can tell that she is caving in.

Hermione sucks in a sharp breath. "I was on the rounds prefects do nightly and I went into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and... oh God I can't believe I am telling you this. I'll have to punish myself or something-

"You sound like a house elf," Harry points out, smirking.

She glares at him, and he regrets saying it, though he doesn't understand her odd obsession with elf rights. She sighs and continues. "He was hunched over the sink, and he was crying, and I don't think I've ever seen something so sad in my life."

"He deserves it."

She looks at him with something like sympathy, but Harry doesn't know why she is sympathetic. "Does he really?"

"Well, yeah, it's Malfoy."

"Malfoy's a human being."

"He doesn't think you're a human being, Hermione."

"He still is a human being, regardless if he considers me one. He's just like us; human."

"Only he's evil," he adds.

Hermione shakes her head. "He's not evil. He's a lot of things, yes, but not evil. Never evil."

"We'll see."

She nods. "Yes, we will."

::

Harry does not tell Ron, and she can tell because everything is perfectly normal at breakfast. She is grateful for this, because it is not what she has been expecting to happen. Ron is shoving as much French Toast as he can possibly fit in his mouth, and going on about Keeper Tryouts that were taking place later that day. Harry is speaking enthusiastically back about Quidditch to Ron, and occasionally saying something to Hermione. She just nods vacantly, as she has never understood Quidditch.

She thinks that Draco is watching her, and she can feel it. Sure enough, his eyes are on her from across the Great Hall as he walks in, and he leaves as soon as he sees her in a rush. She gets up and says "one minute" to Harry and Ron before following him.

She catches up easily, and she grabs onto his wrist firmly so that he can not wander too far from her. He shakes off her grasp, but does not continue walking. "I don't want your sodding help, Granger" he spits coldly. "I don't give a shit if you give a shit what I do, because it doesn't matter! You're still a fucking Gryffindor and you're-

"MALFOY!" she nearly yells, and it is in an effort to get him to listen to her. He stops talking and meets her gaze somewhat defiantly, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall of the corridor they are in. She clears her throat. "I was just here to say that you don't have to flee from every room I'm in. I'm not going to tell anyone besides Harry and-

His eyes widen with anger and disbelief, along with... hurt? "You told Potter, Granger? You fucking told Potter of all people?"

"Draco, I just..." she trails off.

He scowls at her, something different entering his tone now; and she has been thinking it was cold and mocking before. There is a hatred in his eyes, a burning fire that is as cold as ice. "Saying my first name will not help anything. I would have thought, Granger, that you... be ready to colour yourself surprised, Granger, but I would have thought that you, the pious, noble, kind-hearted Gryffindor, would be able to keep a secret. I would have thought you would know with that fucking big brain of yours you'd be able to work out that I didn't want anyone else to know."

"I didn't mean-

"SHUT UP!" he bellows, his shouts echoing of the old stone walls of the castle. He is breathing heavily, and he is clenching and unclenching his fists over, and over, and over again. She thinks that he is agitated and fearful, and she is quite sure she is right. He repeats it again, but this time in a quiet sort of mumble. "Shut up, Granger."

"Were you - Were you going to accept my help?"

He laughs coldly and without a trace of humor. "Do you really think I would take advice from a Mudblood like you? Do you really think that I'm pathetic enough to turn to you, Gryffindor's little princess, Potter's little pet? You act like you are so superior and kind when you are nothing more than a hypocrite."

"You are a prejudiced-

"Shut up," he hisses again. He is in her face now, and it is making her uncomfortable. They are both breathing heavy with rage. "Don't you think that you're the prejudiced one? Granger, face it, whether you're a Mudblood or not means nothing to me anymore. I say it when I'm angry, alright? But you hold this constant belief that I'm evil or-

"You aren't evil," she says quietly. He stops speaking when he hears this, and arches one of his platinum blonde eyebrows. She locks her gaze with his own. "You're a lot of things, Malfoy, but you're not evil."

He furrows his brow, studying her for a moment, before putting the emotionless, cold and almost robotic, mask he usually wears around people. He looks down for what seems like an eternity, his lips parted and curled as though he wants to retort, or sneer at her, but he just bolts without another word.

She lets him.

::

Draco skips all his classes that afternoon and sits in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, thinking about everything he has done, and if it makes him evil. He thinks it does, but yet pure and good Hermione Granger does not think that he is evil. He wonders if she sees good in everyone, though he does not want to, because it makes him feel a little better to know that someone has faith in him; even if it is Hermione Granger.

He thinks that he is snappy with her because she does not think he's evil. It scares him that someone sees good in him, especially now. He knows that he will only disappoint them. He thinks of bailing on his mission and going to Dumbledore, because how would he give a damn if Voldemort killed his father? It is a harsh thing to think, and it proves to himself that he is all the more evil. But then he thinks of his mother, and he reminds himself that he has to.

He goes to the Room of Requirement only a few minutes following this thought, and he begins to working on the Vanishing Cabinet.

::

He has given up entirely on almost everything in his future, so he is taking it day by day. He has lost his Slytherin ambition, and it is proven by the fact that he is back, crying in that damned bathroom at three o'clock in the morning. All he hears are the sounds of his sobs, and the sad, pathetic sound of them makes him feel all the more hopeless.

::

Harry is beginning to become obsessed with Malfoy, Hermione decides. She doesn't think that it is a healthy obsession, because he is now watching Malfoy on the Marauder's Map while everyone else is sleeping. "It's unlike Malfoy to skip class," he comments.

"He's stressed," Hermione whispers.

"So are you going to start sticking up for him now?" he raises his eyebrows. "Think of what he's done to us, and done to everyone we love. Just think of that, Hermione. He hasn't done anything to redeem himself."

"I'm not sticking up for him, I'm just saying."

"I don't see why you care that the git is off crying somewhere, I mean he's made you cry countless times over the years during Hogwarts, and you've slapped him twice."

"He needs a chance to redeem himself."

"He's had plenty of chances, Hermione," he sighs in frustration.

"No, he hasn't," she says, biting her lip. "He's always been with Slytherins, his father is a cold Death Eater. He might not be that bad, you know. He isn't as bad as when he was younger. I think he reflected whatever his father's thoughts were, just to impress him."

"It can't be that simple-

"_Sometimes it is!_" she shouts. She hears someone stir upstairs, and she begins to regret shouting.

Neville Longbottom comes down the stairs groggily then, stopping halfway and balancing himself on the railing. "Some of us are trying to sleep, you know" he mumbles. He rubs his eyes, but it does not seem to wake him up in the slightest.

"Sorry," Hermione says apologetically. "I was just rather angry."

Neville nods, though he seems too exhausted to take in her words and sure enough he retreats back into his dormitory. She doubts Neville will even remember he had heard her shout by the time he wakes up in the morning.

Harry is giving the Marauder's Map an odd look and furrowing his brow like he always does when he is deep in thought. "Malfoy's in Myrtle's bathroom again."

Hermione takes this as all she needs and she doesn't even bother changing out of her nightdress when she walks towards the portrait hole. "I'm going to go talk to him," she announces, turning back slightly so she can look at Harry.

"Are you out of your mind, Hermione? Why do you even care about Malfoy?"

"The same reason I care about house elves, Harry," she sighs, and leaves without giving him explanation because she knows he will never be able to understand her need to reach out to the vulnerable.

::

She makes her way through the castle quickly, but is quite slow at gathering the courage to enter the lavatory. She sucks in a deep breath before opening the door and standing a few feet behind him. He does not notice her at first, she can tell because he is still crying audibly, but he sees her in the mirror after a few moments and his eyes widen. He is still shaking, and he is glaring at her reflection.

"Get out, Granger," he utters darkly.

"I want to help y-

"_GET OUT_" he shouts. "It isn't any of your business."

So she does, and she is beginning to think that he is a lost cause. But she thinks maybe with enough persistence, he may be found again.

::

**Author's Note**

Don't be surprised if it takes me a few days to update Greys, I forgot what my plan for the next chapter was. It'll come back haha oh well. Well I hope you enjoyed this and it is realistic enough. I always saw Hermione as persistent to help others, and could see her reaching out to almost anyone, even someone she hates.


	3. Moral Compass

**Chapter III - Moral Compass**

Hermione is still angry with him when she enters Transfiguration the next morning, and he can tell. She isn't talking to him, or commenting on his work as McGonagall had instructed them to. She is glaring at him for about a quarter of an hour before he has had enough.

"Spit it out, Granger," mutters Draco, meeting her eyes. The usually warm chocolate brown is cold, cold, cold, cold. "You're giving me the same murderous look that you give Potter in Potions."

"I'm angry with you," she snaps. "And I have every right to be."

"Actually, you don't have a right to be. It's not like we're friends, or husband and wife or something the way you're acting," he mumbles. She blushes at him referring to them as husband and wife at all. His features twist into that same arrogant smirk and she narrows her eyes, glaring at it. "Blushing, Granger? Do you like the idea? Might want to ask Snape how to brew a love potion, you'll need it for whoever has the displeasure of marrying you."

"You'll never get married with a personality like yours," she hisses. "I can barely stand to be around you for five minutes let alone the rest of my life."

"Lucky for me, I'm still attractive," he chuckles under his breath, still smirking at her.

She says nothing to this, as she has no clever comeback to disprove his claim. Draco Malfoy is attractive, and she has always known this. Vile, pathetic, arrogant, rude... but attractive. She loathes it, and she wishes that he was born ugly, because his beautiful outside does not reflect the ugliness that radiates from within.

She waves her wand and turns her desk into a pig, as she is supposed to be doing, and then back. Malfoy is raising his eyebrows at her when she looks up from it. "What?" she snaps.

"Not bad. Though I can do better, I'm sure."

"I'm not in the mood for you today."

He snorts. "Well, I'm never in the mood for you, so I guess we have something in common, then; a mutual hatred. Perhaps we can bond over it."

"I have no desire to bond with you," she utters grudgingly.

He arches his brow, grinning smugly. She is already quite sure that whatever he is going to say is going to make her want to slap him. She is right. "That's funny, Granger, because you were the one offering me help a few minutes ago."

She scowls. "Do you ever feel at least a little sorry for being such a git to me all the time? I mean, after all, I do put up with it."

"If slapping me is your idea of putting up with it, then you have quite an interesting view on things."

"I'm glad we have Defense Against the Dark Arts next, that's the only class where I don't have to deal with you."

"I'll sit by you then, just to irritate you."

"I'll ignore you, no, maybe I'll shout at you for trying to be nice just to show you what it feels like."

He can tell that she will not stop being bitter towards him unless he apologizes, and massages the bridge of his nose. He may not like Granger, but she is the only person who has any faith in him, and he does not like disappointing her.

"Fine, I'm a little sorry for being a git to you," he sighs in his defeat. He feels a large hole being ripped in his pride. "But only the slightest, minuscule bit."

"Still don't sit by me."

Draco lets out a short bark of laughter. "You really thought I was going to sit by you? Don't flatter yourself, Granger."

Hermione points her finger at him and meets his gaze coldly. "I don't have to accept your apology, if I'd like, I could turn you into a ferret."

He closes his mouth then, and smothers a smirk. He hates that she will actually do it, but at the same thing he likes it.

He is worried, because he finds himself liking more and more qualities in Hermione Granger, and he is sure that he does not hate her. He doesn't like her in the slightest, but hate her, he does not.

She does not speak to him again until later, in Potions, only to say, "Ronald is such a pain in the arse. He's brooding about like a child because of Quidditch."

"Weasley's always a pain in the ass," Draco agrees.

She thinks for a moment, and then begins to laugh. He raises an eyebrow, questioning. Still laughing, she remarks, "It's just that that's the only thing you and Ron have in common, perhaps you could bond over it."

He does not stop laughing for a long while after that, and he finds her laugh contagious. She has a single dimple on the right corner of her cheek, and her cinnamon colored eyes light up when she is laughing. He stares at her even after she stops. She is somewhat uncomfortable with the presence of his eyes on her skin that she has been feeling lot lately.

"I'm still angry with you," she says once she has pulled herself together. She felt compelled to say it, because she is ashamed that she let her guard down, even just for a second. She can not forget the issue at hand.

"Color me surprised," he murmurs, the corner of his left lip twitching into a half grin.

She can't help the laughter that reluctantly escapes her once more.

::

Draco is tense when he enters Dumbledore's office. He is unsure why Dumbledore has asked for a word in the first place, but all he knows is that he is going to have a hard time acting as though he is not guilty of anything. He sits down across from the wise, elder man in front of him and notices that his hand is blackened and shriveled.

"You seem troubled, Draco," says Dumbledore casually, crossing his hands on the desk and wincing. He seems to be not yet used to having an injured hand. "You have been looking rather... stretched, one might say."

"I'm fine," Draco lies easily, cracking his knuckles under the desk. This is one of his habits when he is nervous.

"Are you sure there is nothing you'd like to tell me?"

_Voldemort is forcing me to kill you, they're going to get in through the Vanishing Cabinet when I'm done repairing it, you're in grave danger, Snape is helping me with my mission._

"You know, Draco," Dumbledore continues, pacing back and forth behind his desk. "You can tell me. You will not be punished."

He looks up and meets the Headmaster's piercing blue eyes with his own piercing grey ones. "No, Professor. Nothing at all."

"Hmm," he hums. "Very well."

Draco leaves, and he is surprised he can walk normally with the ever growing wait on his shoulders. He is going to be smothered by it, eventually.

Dumbledore lets out a long, low sigh of pity for the boy after he is gone.

::

Hermione is unsure what to make of it when she is invited to Slughorn's office for a lunch in the first week of October, something called the "Slug Club", but she accepts it, assuming that it is something that will help her academically. Maybe she might learn something.

"You got one too, 'Mione?" asks Harry, glancing down at her invitation. "How about you, Ron?"

Ron is looking rather irritable when he replies, "No. Why would he notice me?"

She agrees with him, silently. But she feels some sort of pity for Ron, as he is always out-shined by Harry, and always out-shined by her. She simply shakes her head as Harry begins to reassure Ron.

She leaves the Great Hall and goes down to the dungeon where her professor's office is for lunch, and she takes a seat at the large, long dining table with chairs all around it and sits near the middle.

"Good day, Miss Granger," greets Slughorn, giving her a fond pat on the shoulder. "I expect you're doing well?"

"Fairly well, yes," she replies, feeling rather awkward. She is the first person here, and she doesn't like being alone with the professor whom she had never actually conversed with yet. She feels a small sense of relief when she hears the door open and someone enter, but when she turns to see who it is, it is no relief at all.

Apparently, Blaise Zabini and Malfoy were invited as well. Blaise eyes her coldly, his already narrow eyes reducing into slits as he eyes her. They give nods of acknowledgement to Slughorn and take a seat across from Hermione, clearly not wanting to sit by her. "Of course you're here, Granger," sneers Blaise.

"Wish I could say the same for you."

The door opens again and she is relieved to see Ginny come in. Hermione notices that her lips are slightly bruised, like she has been kissing someone. "Sorry I'm late, Professor. It was rather last minute" says Ginny before taking a seat next to Hermione.

"Where have you been?" Hermione whispers, eyeing her lips suspiciously.

"Snogging Dean. He got rather erh - carried away, and he kept me. It's how he gets, you know."

Harry and Neville enter then, laughing over something one of them had said. "Good day, Professor," says Harry. Slughorn pats him on the back, and he takes a seat on the other side of Hermione.

"He has invited Weasel King too, I expect?" Blaise asks. He is smirking, so Hermione knows that this isn't a simple question.

"No," answers Harry. "But that's not any of your business, is it, Zabini?"

"You've got some nerve, Potter," the Slytherin replies.

"No surprise that Weasel isn't here, Blaise," says Malfoy, chuckling under his breath and directing his smirk at Hermione.

"The world would be so much easier if you were a mute," Hermione snaps. She shoots a heated glare at him, and his smirk only widens. "Malfoy, you'd think your face gets sore from smirking all the time."

"It does," he sighs in a feigned sadness. "It's quite hard to deal with, but I figure if your arm can stay up in class 25 hours of the day, I shouldn't have a problem."

"There's only 24 hours of the day," says Harry stupidly.

"Sarcasm, Potter. Learn it."

Hermione is still glaring at him for a few tense minutes, and he is still smirking at her. She does not break eye contact, and it only brings her to the further conclusion that his eyes are not creepy in the slightest.

A few more people that Hermione does not know join the table, including a Gryffindor sixth year called Cormac McLaggen.

Slughorn takes a seat at the head of the table when everyone has arrive, and makes food appear on the dishes and trays in the center. "Well, eat up," he announces. No one does, all of them simply eye him curiously. He sighs. "This club is for only the most bright and the most powerful students in our school. Students that are going to be something."

"It's a wonder Longbottom was invited, then," drawls Malfoy in his usual lazy tone. taking one of the ice cream sundaes in the center of the table. "He might blow something up."

Slughorn laughs nervously, obviously uncomfortable with the thick tension in the room. "Now, boys and girls, we're going to need some house unity in here."

The lunch goes by, and it only goes on to show Slughorn that house unity is little to nonexistent; just like their chance of winning the impending war.

::

Draco feels more alone than ever when he is in the Slytherin common room, though he is with the ones he calls his friends. They are not his friends, though. They will never really be his friends. They all stay together on their own solo pursuit to power, but they are not supportive, and they are not open about how they feel. The greatest trait of a Slytherin is a certain lack of emotion, at least on the outside.

"How much do you want to bet that Mudblood and Weasel are shagging in secret?" asks Pansy abruptly, smirking.

"They're not," Draco responds, a little too quickly. His companions all stare at him, questioning. Pansy's eyebrows rise. "Granger was complaining about him in Potions."

"You talk to her?"

"On occasion," he answers casually with a shrug. "I haven't really got anyone else to converse with in Transfiguration, now have I?"

"But you do in Potions."

"I guess I do," he replies irritably. He glares at Pansy in an attempt to show his irritation, but this seems to only inflate her need to irritate him.

"You're not implying that Draco fancies Granger, are you?" Theo arches an eyebrow at Pansy. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to check you into St. Mungo's if you are, Pansy."

Pansy shakes her head, but she is blushing. "I just... I don't know I just wonder if he's seeing anyone."

"Parkinson it would be much easier to get a bloke to like you if you didn't spend every minute of your miserable existence pursuing them," sneers Blaise.

"Who says I was pursuing him?" she defends stupidly, going even redder.

"Everyone," says Theo, grinning. "I mean, he obviously knows that you fancies him. That isn't too hard to tell."

Draco shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "Erh - let's change the subject please, mate. How is your es-

"Poor Pansy," Blaise feigns a sigh. "Unrequited love is always the hardest."

"Shut the fuck up, Blaise," Pansy hisses, narrowing her eyes.

"So, Draco, on another note, have you really got a Dark Mark?" Theo inquires in a very hopeful tone. "That's what my father told me."

He nods, squirming once again.

"Show us! That's wicked!" exclaims Theo.

Draco has had enough at this point, and he gets up and bolts out of the common room. It is bad enough to have a mark, but he cannot bear to show it.

::

She runs into him somewhat intentionally in one of the corridors after they had finished their dinner. She had been rather curious in where he is going, since he went up the staircase rather than down to the dungeon. She does not want to admit to herself that she is following Draco Malfoy, or that she wants desperately to help him.

Helping Draco Malfoy has become an unhealthy (and impossible) obsession. She knows this, but the stubborn piece of her personality is determined to aid him, and to find out what he is up to anyways. And she is unsure why, but she can't hate him after seeing him that vulnerable, despite his nearly endless list of flaws.

After being up against the wall outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (which he had entered), she follows him. She waits a moment before doing so, because she does not want him to know that she is stalking him.

He isn't crying this time, she notices from the doorway, but the sight is even worse. He is shaking, holding the sink for support and staring with a deep loathing at his own reflection. He looks scared, desperate... lost. She takes a few steps forward until she is about three feet behind him, and he scowls at her, looking at her through the reflection.

"Is it any use to tell you to go away?" he spits. "Is it any use to tell you that you're not wanted here, and that I want you to leave me alone? We aren't friends, Granger".

"But I still... I'm still worried about you," she admits. "Ever since I first saw you crying in here-

"You weren't supposed to see it!" he shouts. "You weren't supposed to. So why are you lying to yourself and telling yourself that you can help me? Why are you caring about me when we are enemies? I'm evil. I'm on a completely different side than you!"

She is glad that he is at least speaking to her this time, and saying something besides 'get out'. It is barely anything, but it seems to be a large leap in progress. She bites her lip so hard and long it will surely bruise. She is unsure how long she stands like that, staring at his reflection. She nods decisively before speaking.

"I don't think you're my enemy, Malfoy."

He lets out a cold bark of laughter. "You're a fool. You're a completely naive fool. Do you have any idea what's planned for me this year? I'm going to put you and all your stupid little friends in danger."

"But you don't want to. If you wanted to you wouldn't cry, and you wouldn't be talking to me right now".

"You don't know me" he hisses coolly, his pupils constricting so small she could barely see them. He is going to shoo her off soon, and she knows it. "You don't know anything about me".

"I know more than most," she argues. "Name someone else who knows that you come in here and weep like a child every night?"

"Fuck off."

"You know, I think you're afraid of me because no one else gives a damn about you at all. That's what I thi-

"Leave, Granger!" he shouts, venom in every word.

She does not object. She does not want to lose her temper with him, which is quickly straining. She leaves feeling as if she has changed the world. She has just talked to Draco Malfoy while he is in the midst of an emotional break down.

::

Draco is well prepared for the questions and sneers that his companions throw at him when he returns to the Slytherin common room sometime near three o'clock in the morning, but that does not mean that he thinks he will be able to keep his temper. He is already tense when he arrives, and he nervously scopes the common room, looking out for Pansy and Theodore and-

"Draco."

Fucking spectacular, he thinks, cursing under his breath. He turns towards Pansy, who is sitting on one of the many leather couches in the common room. The rest are empty, as it is quite late, and she is the only one awake. He is annoyed at the fact that she probably waited awake just to badger him. "What do you want, Parkinson?"

"Why did you run off earlier?" she asks, something accusatory in her tone. "I mean, most people would want to show off their Dark Mark and-

"Spare me your reasoning," he hisses. "I don't give a damn what you have to say. I'm sure you guys had a laugh."

She smirks. "Yeah, we did. What, you're not scared of it, are you? I mean, any of us would be honored to work for him."

"Me? Scared?" he scoffs. "You must be bloody thick to think that. I'm just as honored as any of you would be but excuse me for not rolling up my sleeve while the majority of Slytherin house was present. Don't think the Dark Lord would fancy hearing all about how everyone in Hogwarts knows that Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater."

"What exactly is it you're doing for him?"

"You have to be the most nosy wench I've ever met, Parkinson. Like I'm going to tell you what I'm up to."

"Why do you always call girls by their last names?" she inquires after a moment of thought. "You do it to me, and the Mudblood."

"I only call females to whom I've acquired a distaste by their last name. You happen to be one of the lucky few in that category."

He does not realize that it isn't distaste that keeps him calling Granger by her last name this year; it is his need to keep his distance from her, and it is necessary for him to stay away from her.

Not because she is a Mudblood. No, none of that matters to him anymore. He has not believed in the rubbish since he had seen his father torture a young Muggle schoolboy for enjoyment. He is not sure why it is at all that he finds it necessary to distance himself from her, but he only has a gut feeling.

A gut feeling that he does not want to acknowledge; part of which involves the thought that Hermione Granger is not ugly in the slightest.

::

"Do you want to talk about last night... you know, in the bathroom?" she whispers hesitantly to him in Transfiguration.

"Keep saying shit like that, Granger, and everyone is going to think that we're shagging," he hisses back under his breath, still pretending to read his textbook. Her cheeks go faintly pink. "You might want to be more careful with your word choice; you of all people has an extensive vocabulary."

"Fine. Would you like to have about the conversation we had last night?" she replies.

"Fuck off," he mutters in a raspy and low tone. "If I were you, I'd leave it, Granger."

"But you aren't me."

"And for that, we are all thankful," he smirks, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

She secretly thinks he is quite handsome when he laughs, though he is always rather handsome; she thinks it is due to the fact that his normally cold, light grey eyes possess a sort of light and his flawlessly white teeth are bared in a way that isn't a smirk or a sneer, but a real smile. She thinks that he notices her eyes lingering on him too long, because the warmth seeps out of his eyes and he rolls them. She looks away the moment after he had noticed.

"No comeback, Granger?" he questions, arching an eyebrow. "I must say, I'm impressed. You seem to have lost track of things while you were gawking at me."

"I was not!" she says a little too defensively. Her cheeks flush a peachy pink. "You're so melodramatic, Malfoy."

The corner of his lips twitch upwards slightly. "Sure."

"I would never gawk at you," she hisses.

He rolls his eyes, but does not reply. He scrawls something with his quill on his piece of parchment being used for notes. She leans over slightly and shakes her head. He scowls at her. "What, do you have a problem, Granger?"

"You wave your wand to the right for that spell, not the left," she replies, blushing. "It says right in the third paragraph in the chapter."

"Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Do your own work," he snaps.

"If I have to warn you again this week about talking during my class, Malfoy and Granger, there will be detention for the both of you," Professor McGonagall warns, glaring their way.

"She was-

"Malfoy, your lips were also moving. Unless you have a medical condition that causes your lips to move uncontrollably at their own will, then I think it is quite safe to say that you're talking too."

Malfoy can feel all the eyes in the room on him in that moment, and he knows he will get hell from his peers later.

But his thoughts are not as bad as hers. For a moment, the thought of Malfoy's uncontrollable lips on her own crosses her mind, but she hasn't a clue on why. Hermione doesn't look at him for the rest of Transfiguration.

::

Harry and Ron are looking excitedly to a piece of paper on the notice board when she returns to the common room from the library. She is quite sure that this paper states that there will be a Hogsmeade visit later in the month, but she looks anyways.

"About time, too," says Ron. "I need to stock up on sugar quills."

"I wonder if the Quidditch supply store has any new equipment? It would be good, you know, for the team?" Harry replies.

Hermione wonders why she even bothers with the company of men. "I'm going to go to the bookstore. Much more useful than sugar quills."

"Just because your parents are dentists-

"Oh, come off it, Ronald," she groans.

"Slug Club party tonight," Harry reminds her. "Not quite sure if I'm excited about it, though. Those things are rather irritating."

"Oh the precious Slug Club," Ron mutters. "Old Sluggy's favorites. The whole thing is rubbish. Aren't teachers supposed to avoid favoritism?"

"He's not breaking any rules," she points out. "Besides, you're just jealous that you weren't invited, especially since Malfoy was invited".

"Malfoy was invited?" Ron questions, gaping. "There's no way that that completely daft-

"He's not daft, he's a prefect. Besides, he made it into N.E.W.T level on all the classes I'm in with him, including Arithmancy"

"Why were you talking to him today, anyways?" Ron scoffs. His tone of voice makes it sound as though she had committed a horrible sin.

"Yeah, but he's Malfoy, isn't he?"

"Well what does that have to do with anything?"

"He's the enemy," Ron growls. "He's an ass-

"I never disagreed with that. But he's... human. He's just like us in that sense. He's a human being with emotions just like everyone else-

"Except for the fact that he's Malfoy-

"Just leave it, Ronald."

"You've gone mad," he accuses. "You've gone completely and utterly mad. 'Mione, you'd never defend Malfoy. Are you sure he didn't Imperius you or something?"

She is irritated enough already with the long, dull, assigned reading she is working on, and Ron's distractions are beginning to bother her. She slams her textbook shut and throws it under her arm in a smooth movement and heads up to the girl's dormitory. It is only when she is alone does she realize that she has indeed gone mad.

::

He has been hiding in the bathroom for hours, just so he can escape the noise and taunts of his common room. For once in his life, he wishes that he wasn't sorted into Slytherin. But now he is stuck, with a Dark Mark on his arm for proof.

He groans when he hears the door creak and sees Hermione walking in cautiously, but he can't say he wasn't expected. "Granger, I think you've taken to stalking me."

"Harry's been watching you, you know. On this map thing he has," Hermione supplies plainly. "And he says you've been going to the Room of Requirement a lot. Look, he might not see it, but you disappear off the map. That's the only way you could do it."

"So it's not just you that's taken to stalking me, then?" he arches his brow and lets out a short bark of laughter.

She sits down a few feet from him, not wanting to get in too close of proximity. "You know... Dumbledore's worried about you. I overheard him talking to Snape in the hall and-

"Shut up," he hisses. "I've already made it quite clear that I don't want to talk to you about this. It's bad enough to have to deal with you in class-

"I want to he-

"I don't need your fucking help. Everything about asking help from you is wrong. You're too filled with morals and bullshit to keep anything to yourself that's immoral. You're a Mudblood, I'm a Pureblood; Slytherin and Gryffindor. All the odds are against anything to do with us in the slightest, so I would stop trying. We loathe each other".

"I don't hate you," she says quietly.

His lips part at these words and shakes his head. "You do, Granger. You have to."

"I don't have to do something just because you want me too, you know" she replies. "The world doesn't revolve around you."

"But you want to hate me."

"I do" she agrees.

"Then why?"

"Because I'm Hermione Granger and I'm filled with 'morals and bullshit', and because I don't like to hate people."

"I do."

"I know, but you lack a moral compass" she sighs. "You're not an evil, or heartless person. You want to be, but you aren't. Actually, I wouldn't even say you want to be. You just want other people to think you are."

"Don't act like you know me just because you saw..."

"You can't even admit to crying. It's not a bad th-

"You don't understand."

"What is there to understand?" she snaps. "Everybody cries, Malfoy."

"Not me. I'm not supposed to. I'm the big bad wolf who made the little Mudblood cry. I'm expected to lack emotions."

"Would you stop fucking call me that-

"If you hate it so much then stop talking to me because I'm not some stupid little saint like you are and I really don't give a fuck what you think or say."

"Do you live to insult people?"

"Only you, _darling,_" he smirks, putting particular emphasis on the word. "You can fuck off now, Granger. I came here to avoid having to look at everyone's faces and yours is worse than all of theirs combined."

She rolls her eyes and storms out of the room. She is beginning to wonder why she is trying in the first place. He is right about what he said about them disliking each other. He is right about what he said about them being different in every possible way. But she is curious. She is so curious.

She needs to get through to him. It is necessary.

::

She doesn't speak with him, or look at him at all for the next week. She does not bother following him anywhere. She wonders if he notices, or even dwells on the matter at all. She doubts that he does, but she does anyways.

He is growing thinner, and thinner, and thinner. With each day he looks less alive and more strained than anything. He is rarely smirking at all, and he has not insulted her. He has not said anything to her. She thinks it is because she hasn't said anything to him, but she wouldn't stop playing this game. No, she never would.

She is interrupted in her thoughts when she hears him clear his throat when he is near her in the library. He catches her gaze for a moment. "Are you going to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

She nods, and then smirks, remembering his words. "Have you taken to stalking me?"

"I'll make sure to stay in the castle, then," he comments, ignoring her statement all together.

"Pleasure as always speaking with you, Malfoy."

He is smirking wider than her now, and she tries to make hers even larger. Everything is becoming a competition now, with him, anyways. He cracks his knuckles before the school bell tolls and he pushes her books of the table. "Oops."

He leaves with a smug grin on his face and doesn't help pick them up. That arrogant little bastard.

::

She is assigned prefect duty with him, but they accomplish nothing but a good screaming match. It had started over something trivial. Hermione had forgotten her badge in her common room and she had needed to go get it. He began shouting at her for being so 'bloody forgetful'. She responded with, 'At least it means I have more on my mind than self pity', and it had only spiraled downward from there.

He is glaring at her now. There has been a tense and thick silence filling the corridor, the only sound their heavy breathing from their arguments. He notices she is clenching and unclenching her fists, and he wonders if she is debating over hitting him or if she simply does that when she is angry.

"I'm going to ask Dumbledore to assign me duties with somebody else" she tells him. "I can't stand working with you."

"The feeling is mutual."

They go about another week not speaking.

::

God, he hates that he has to do this. He is glaring daggers at the small, evil necklace with the stones that is resting inside the Vanishing Cabinet. But it is his only option, right? Something in the back of his mind tells him to go to Dumbledore, but he can't.

He can't let other people know just how foul and disgusting and vile he is, despite the fact that it is him, and most people think he is anyways.

::

His hand is shaking excessively as he lowers his wand. He's done it. He has given Imperiused Madam Rosmerta instruction to give Katie Bell the cursed necklace, and then cast the same curse on her. He leaves the Three Broomsticks in a bolt, but his shaking legs fail him as he passes Honeydukes, so instead he slides down the wall at the side of it and begins to cry. He only does this because even at the slim event of him being found, his tears could pass as falling rain.

He has succeeded, and yet he has failed. He has failed himself, he has failed Dumbledore, he has failed Granger. "I'm sorry" he murmurs, sniffling. He is unsure of who the apology is for; for Bell, for Rosmerta, or for everyone. He slams his hand backward and into the stone wall in frustration before getting up and walking back up the long path towards Hogwarts.

He is just leaving the small alleyway when-

"Malfoy!"

He turns quickly and curses when he sees Potter. He would rather run into Granger than him right now.

"What are you doing back here? People might talk, you know. The son of a Death Eater lurking in alleyways during a Hogsmeade outing."

"I'm not lurking, Potter. I was simply minding my own business before you came nosing about" Draco narrows his eyes. "Granger was right about you stalking me, you know."

"What?" replies Potter incredulously.

"You've been watching me on your little map thing. She told me," he replies. "I'd suggest you mind your own business. This is exactly how your parents met their end. Mark my words you'll go the same way."

"At least my parents aren't Death Eaters. They went out a brave way rather the way your parents will go, serving Voldemort like a coward. Hell, he's not too happy with your parents, so it might even be at his hand-

"The Dark Lord respects our family. Our blood is the purest of any of the other families that serve him. Your mother was a filthy Mudblood, she deserved what she got."

"So Hermione would deserve what she got, too? You don't seem to mind her so much. After all, you two seem to talk a great deal-

"It's not my fault she noses around in my business. She's probably contagious. I bet that's why you started watching me," Draco is raising his voice now in frustration. His lip is curled with loathing, and he is digging his nails into his palms to vent some of the tension he is feeling.

"You're avoiding my question."

He is. He does not care about Granger, but he does not think Granger would deserve to be killed. Not even close. But Potter takes his silence differently.

"I'll make sure to tell her, then, that she deserves to be dead in your eyes-

"Fine, Potter, I don't give a shit."

"So is everyone just less than you? Do you think you're better than everyone else? Are you proud of being an arrogant bastard?"

Draco's eyebrows raise and he chuckles. "Pretty much, yeah."

"So if a Mudblood died it wouldn't matter to you?"

The true answer was no, but he does not want that to get around. The Slytherins would hear about it within a day. But before he can respond, an eerie, high-pitched scream sounded through the air. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

He runs then, bolting ahead of Potter. He nearly vomits when he sees what has happened.

Katie Bell had touched the necklace. He can feel himself sweating, and though it is freezing outside, a disgusting warmth spreads over his limbs. It is worse when she collapses from the air; she looks lifeless. He winces, and clutches his forearm in an ashamed gesture, as though squeezing it hard enough will make the mark go away. He tries to will away the situation, closing and opening his eyes to see if he would wake up from this dream.

But he realizes that his whole life is a nightmare now.

::

He is sobbing silently, the sound had left him hours, and hours, and hours ago. He had skipped dinner, and he is unsure if the pain in his stomach is from crying for so long, or from the hunger he is feeling. He's in fetal position, his back to the wall and his head in his knees. He hears the door open, and he does not have to look to know who is there.

"Go away," he shouts when he looks up at her. "Go away, Granger. I don't care about whatever you have to say."

She looks at him with that damning pity she always has in her expression whenever she looks at him. She sits down beside him on the floor, and he is uncomfortable with how close she is. It is one thing for her to witness his pathetic emotional breakdowns, but for her to be so close to him in the process...

"I-I know I don't know how you're feeling. And you don't even have to talk to me if you want. But I saw you, when you saw Katie. Whatever you did to her is eating you alive and-

"_YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT I'M FEELING_" he bellows. "You don't know shit Granger. You don't know anything about how I'm feeling. You don't even know that I did it."

"You did," she says quietly. "I know you did. Your face when you saw her... you looked so guilty, and so horrified. I'm not going to turn you in, Malfoy. I just wanted to tell you that you're not a bad person."

"Aren't I?" he murmurs, not meeting her eyes. "You don't know the half of it."

"You're not going to convince me that you're evil. I don't care how much you want people to think you're some bad guy with no morals or emotions whatsoever, I'm not going to buy it. The way you looked when you saw her. You can't fake that."

He gets up then and leaves. He cannot listen to this anymore. He can't bare to hear that he is not evil after what he has done.

::

He lays in bed all night, but he does not get an ounce of sleep.

He laughs internally because he, Draco Malfoy, does have a moral compass after all.

::

**Author's Note**

I am so sorry that I haven't updated in so long! I am a terrible human being for that. Real life got in the way with midterm exams and all that shit. But I'm back now. Feel free to hurl objects at me.


	4. Marked

**Chapter IV - Marked**

He is giving into her. He can feel it in his heart, and in his bones. He wants to tell her everything, and to just be able to vent to someone, even if it is Granger. And this scares him. He thinks that is why he is avoiding her, but he knows there is more to it than that. There always has been when it came to him.

He feels almost guilty for not telling her. Why should he? He doesn't even like her. But she gives a shit, and that is more than almost anyone has done for him.

His mind is a mess of qualms and inquiries to why he wants to open up to Granger; surely she had slipped him a love potion, or perhaps Veritaserum? He shakes his head and laughs bitterly at the stop. No, Hermione Granger is far too pure for any of the lies or deceit either option held in store.

He doesn't visit Moaning Myrtle's bathroom anymore, he bottles it up instead. Bottling it up is still better than opening up to the Mudblood.

::

Hermione studies him intently. He has long eyelashes, and sharp cheekbones; two things she had never really taken note of before. She hopes he doesn't notice that she is continuously stealing glances of him as he looks down at his Transfiguration textbook. Judging by the glare he sends her way a moment after her brief thought, he has most definitely noticed.

"It's hard to work with your shit-brown eyes on me all the time," he hisses. "Why don't you do your work? You are irritating me with your presence in the library. Not that it's surprising."

"Finished," she replies, shrugging casually. "It's not too difficult. And as I recall, you said my eyes weren't creepy."

"I never said they weren't creepy. I don't recall saying anything, actually," he objects. "I simply looked at you like you were mad, which you are. Silence doesn't count as a 'yes', Granger."

"But you never said they were, either."

"Shut up," he snaps, narrowing his eyes. "What are you trying to do, anyways?"

"I-I was just..." she exhales audibly and composes herself. "You haven't - you haven't spoken with me in two weeks, not even looked at me, really."

He raises his eyebrows and snorts. "Since when have I ever wanted to speak with you? Has it ever come across that way to you? If it has, you're both mad and delusional."

"I know that's not it," she pushes. She meets his gaze, and his pale grey eyes are holding an emotion she can't quite fathom. "You've been avoiding me... and more so than usual, I might add."

His fingers clench and then unclench and his jaw stiffens. He is not looking at her, he is looking at the wall behind her. "I don't see why that surprises you."

"I thought I was... no, we were, making progress on things. You were sort of starting to trust me and then you just ran away."

"I'm no sodding Gryffindor, Granger," he says coolly, cracking his knuckles. He is very nervous, and he is unsure why. "But why on earth did you have to choose the seat right across from mine?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

He clenches his jaw again and holds his breath for a moment before turning the page in his textbook. "Taken a liking to me?"

"I don't hate you anymore," she admits sheepishly, breaking eye contact with him nervously and resting her hands in her lap. "And I just want to help."

"You can't help me."

"Then tell me why not," she demands.

He shakes his head. It is too risky. Far too risky.

She takes her books then, obviously annoyed at his lack of conversation, and his lack of trust for her. It is not really mistrust, though, but he understands how it may come across that way. He can't seem to find the word for why he actually isn't open up to her, as there are just too many reasons.

As she is walking away from their quiet little corner in the back of the library, he calls after her and she briefly comes to a stop. "Fine, Granger. No need to be a bitch. I'll speak with you again, even though you are a nosy wench".

And for some odd reason, her lips twitch into a smile and do not return to normal until she is back to the common room.

::

"You and Malfoy are always staring at each other" accuses Ron during a particularly frustrating DADA lesson. "He's up to something, I'm sure."

"That's ridiculous, Ronald."

She pushes away the matter as though it is absurd as can be, but she has noticed this too. He is watching her, a curiosity alive in his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed like he is concentrating on something. She return these little glances, and even when she meets his eyes, he does not look away.

"Stop encouraging him, 'Mione," Ron scoffs, gesturing to Malfoy, who is across the room from them. Hermione can tell by the shaking of his shoulders that Malfoy is chuckling under his breath the way he always does. A fuzzy feeling comes over her at the look of his eyes crinkled at the corners, near perfect set of teeth bared, dimples on either of his cheeks...

"Perhaps you're staring at Malfoy, Weasley," snarls Pansy Parkinson from behind them. "You're the one who seems so curious on what he is looking at."

Hermione senses a note of unmistakable jealousy in Pansy's voice. But why would Pansy Parkinson be jealous of her?

:::

Draco vomits. It is violent, and the bile is unpleasant on his throat. He has not even eaten today, and it is still happening. It is something that has been happening for days, and it is something he can not explain.

He stands with his hands on the walls of the small bathroom stall for support and removes the over layer of his robes so he is left in just the trousers and white button up shirt. He vomits again when he sees his mark.

Then it hits him.

The stress is doing this.

The stress, the guilt, the impending war.

It is all breaking the boy who tries so hard to be unbreakable.

::

"Do you ever wish you could just call it all off?" slurs Theo.

Theodore Nott is known to be a completely closed off, loner-type person, but he is also known to be a talker when he drinks firewhiskey. Tonight is one of those nights, but this time, Draco is not drinking with him. He would vomit again if he did.

"Call what off?" Draco questions, arching an eyebrow.

"This. Everything... Life in general."

The blonde nods at his dark haired friend and his lips part at the simple truth of the statement. "All the time."

"But why? You're the Dark Lord's right hand man now! You're doing a mission! Isn't your life perfect?" Theo asks. His voice is oddly scathing, even for Theo.

Draco furrows his brow. "What's wrong?" he questions. The look on Theo's eyes gives it all away. "I don't want to be," he confesses.

Theo's blue eyes meet his. "Why'd you do it then, take the mark?"

"Either the Dark Lord would've killed me or my father would have. And they," he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "They were going to kill my mother if I didn't. Dear Bellatrix had a knife to my mother's throat as I took it."

Theo snorts. "Your aunt is always a charmer."

"Granger's trying to 'help' me," Draco groans. "She doesn't realize what she's getting into and-

"You care about her."

"I just don't want anyone to end up dead; not because of me. I don't care about her I just-

"I remember when you wanted her dead," muses Theo. "You were always talking about it... calling her a Mudblood. You do care. You've come along way."

Draco's lips part, but he does not speak for a few moments. "It's just natural. She's the only one who actually gives a shit about what happens to me, even though she despises me it's... it's natural to return the favor a minuscule bit."

"I give a shit about you."

"I thought you were proud of me taking the mark."

"Faking," replies Theo simply. "Have to pretend... Father will have my neck if he hears I'm against the cause of the Dark Lord."

The blonde's eyes trail to Theo's bare shoulder; a purple teeth mark on his otherwise even and tan skin. "Who did you shag?"

"Astoria Greengrass," boasts Theo, inflating his chest slightly. "She consoled me earlier when I was punching shit."

"Why?"

"Father reckons I should get a Dark Mark; says if you have one, I should have one too. Well, that's what my grandfather said anyways, he seems to think that my father thinks it would've made my mom proud," he lets out a cold, bitter laugh. "He murdered my mother in front of me; all because she wouldn't get a damn mark on her arm."

"Mate-

"Open up to her, Draco. I couldn't give a shit if she's a Mudblood or not. You need someone who gives a shit about you besides me; I'll burn in hell before I take that mark. I might not be around much longer."

_Me neither_, Draco thinks.

::

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione says in a hiss. She slams her Transfiguration book shut. He will not leave her alone, and will not stop provoking her, though McGonagall has twice threatened them with detention already. "You're going to get us detention."

Draco grins mischievously. He is hovering over her then, and she can feel his body heat radiating from behind her. Her heart is speeding up in her chest and her cheeks are surely crimson. He reaches over her shoulder then, and in a fluid motion, knocks her textbook over. "Oops."

"Mr. Malfoy! For the last time-

"Sorry, Professor. I must have a twitch," he drawls. He carelessly knocks over her pot of ink, smashing it on the floor and then shrugs. "Oops."

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy," says McGonagall coldly. "And you will help Miss Granger clean up the mess you made by hand. No magic".

"Son of a bitch," he mutters under his breath.

He simply sits on the floor for a while before grabbing the wet washcloth he had been supplied with and scrubbing at the stubborn black ink. One small spot of the stone floor is sharp, and he knicks his finger on it, causing a small tear and trickle of blood on his skin.

"Don't want to make the place more filthy, Malfoy," Hermione smirks.

He raises his eyebrows, grinning in return. "Did you just call my blood filthy, Granger?"

She shakes her head, chuckling under her breath. She swings her feet innocently before kicking him in the side lightly. He winces. "Oops," she says with a feigned look of innocence.

"You will serve detention with Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger. Two school prefects in the same day-

"You're the ones who assigned us to be partners," Draco counters.

McGonagall scowls. "Twenty five points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin."

He smirks at Granger from the floor, and it only widens when she looks at him in a cross, haughty manner. When she is sure McGonagall is far enough away, she hits him over the head with her textbook.

"You're rather devious on Halloween, aren't you?" Draco teases, arching an eyebrow.

"It's Halloween?" Hermione frowns. "I've forgotten... so there will be a feast later... yes, I think-

"That neither of you will be attending the feast, and that you will both stay here from after class until the feast is over sorting my file cabinets".

::

She is beginning to wonder whether Harry is right about him. Not about the fact that Draco is evil; she is certain that is false. No, he is not evil. But she is beginning to wonder about whether he is a Death Eater.

There are little hints. He cringes at the mention of Voldemort. Every now and then, he touches his left forearm as if it is hurting him. He appears to be strained and overwhelmed, and perhaps that is the most important piece of the puzzle.

And Katie Bell...

He is far too guilty to be doing something small. She is near certain that he is a Death Eater. But something inside her compels her not to say anything, and that is the part that scares her the most.

::

"Old hag," Draco mutters in a grudging tone. "I swear, putting us in detention was completely unnecessary."

Hermione looks at him from the cabinet across the classroom from his own, scowling. "You're the one who started it. Don't whine about what was totally avoidable. You did this yourself."

He begins walking towards her in his same self-satisfied strut as always, but his sleeve catches inside one of the cabinets as he closes it. There is a loud ripping sound. "Shit," he curses. His sleeve has ripped. His left sleeve. He panics, and he runs to the prefect's bathroom before she can see the black mark permanently engraved in his skin.

::

Draco once again finds himself in the bathroom, but he is not sobbing, simply reflecting quietly in the corner of the room. He is certain that Granger will show up, but he doesn't mind, really.

He is still silent when she does, and she studies him, approaching him cautiously, as though he is a hippogriff or some other magical creature you have to be careful with. She is studying him, and he can tell. She eventually takes a seat directly beside him, and he is rather uncomfortable with how close their arms are to touching.

"You ran out of your detention. You're going to be in a lot of trouble. You don't have to leave just because you don't want to do something, Malfoy."

"No shit," he drawls. "And you don't understand what happened."

"I heard a ripping noise."

Her eyes trail to the ripped sleeve, and she notices a curious patch of black. She is too quick for him. She reaches and pulls at the tear so it is visible. It is an ugly black skull, contrasting tremendously with his alabaster skin. She stares at it for a moment before meeting his eyes. He expects hatred, outrage... anything but the sympathy that was there.

"You're..." Hermione murmurs.

"Yeah," he replies simply. "I am."

"But you don't want to be."

It is a statement, not a question, and this surprises him. He had expected much different from Granger when he considered her response if she found out. He shrugs noncommittally, silent. She is still staring at it, and this irks him. He glares at her. "Are you quite done?"

"You don't want to be," she repeats.

"Leave it. It's not your business whether I want to or not. I am, regardless. Shouldn't you be running off and telling the headmaster now."

"I already knew, I think," she says quietly.

"Oh," is his simple response.

"Did it... hurt?" she questions cautiously. It is a broad question, and he could take it any way he wanted to. She means it in a spiritual sense, in a moral sense, rather than a physical sense.

"Yes, Granger," he mumbles, meeting her gaze and swallowing audibly.

"When?"

"Summer," he clenches his jaw, and he has an expression that she cannot quite read. "A couple days before I saw you and Potter at Madam Malkin's."

"Did you ever attend to sending them flowers?" she teases.

He is confused for a moment before comprehension spreads across his features. He full out laughs, and she joins in a little bit. "No, Granger. I'm sad to say that I never did get around to that."

"You don't have to do this alone."

He grinds his teeth together, studying her. "We're not friends, Granger. This doesn't change anything, you know."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I know."

::

Part of her wants to turn him in. She really does. It is against every moral fiber in her body that she hasn't done so yet, but something is keeping her from doing so.

She thinks it has something to do with the fact that this would be completely violating his trust on every level. She has worked so hard for him to trust her. And now he does, even though it is barely there, she can feel it.

The main thing keeping her is what would happen to him. She knows that he is not a bad person. She knows that all he needs is a little bit of a positive influence for him to redeem himself. And most of all, he does not deserve to be locked up in Azkaban. No one really does, in her opinion (well, perhaps besides Bellatrix LeStrange and Voldemort), but especially not him.

She decides not to.

For now.

::

"I expect you're coming to my party later, Hermione?" Slughorn arches an eyebrow the next morning at breakfast. "And you too, Harry. It's a little post Halloween celebration. There will be some of my favorite pineapple there."

"Yeah," Harry says, grinning a very forced grin. The grin seems to be enough for Slughorn, though, because he beams back.

"That'll be great, Professor," she says politely, giving Harry a quizzical look.

After the Potions Master is out of ear length, Harry explains. "Dumbledore wants me to get close to him. There's a memory we need. It's important, it's about Voldemort."

"Wicked," says Ron. "But mind you, I'd be much more enthusiastic if I wasn't so nauseated. First Quidditch match today right after breakfast."

"You'll do great," Harry assures his friend.

Hermione hasn't been paying very much attention to Quidditch, per usual. Everyone thinks it's odd that she isn't so feverish about it like everyone else in her grade is, especially now that her best friend is Team Captain for Gryffindor. She highly doubts any form of athletics will ever be anything close to important to her.

"Yeah, we'll crush Slytherin."

Malfoy's playing, she notes. She looks over at him, and he is indeed in his Quidditch Robes. Merlin, he looks good in them. But she can't associate with him, right? Especially now that she knows he has a Dark Mark branded on his body. It wouldn't be right to associate with him, but she forgets to care when he catches her eye from across the Great Hall.

::

At the match, she can't seem to stop watching him. He is so graceful on a broom, and he makes it look effortless. She thinks he looks... _free_, an that is more from him than she has seen in awhile.

But she frowns when she sees how short lived it is.

Harry still catches the Snitch, and then he looks defeated and worn as ever.

::

She shows up to Slughorn's party, barely making it on time. She has been in and out of the library, researching Voldemort and his Death Eaters. She has a feeling somehow it will help Draco, but she isn't sure why that is.

"Miss Granger! I was worried you weren't going to come! Take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy!"

He greets her only with a curt nod, and repeatedly fiddles with the left sleeve of his black button up shirt under the table. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, and he glares at her because he has no idea what she is doing. He is so... masculine. Even his wrists. And he is warm, too; she had expected him to be cold simply because of how cold he acts sometimes. She can not hold on as long as she would like but she pulls his hand away from his sleeve and shoots him a meaningful look. His eyes soften slightly.

Ginny arches an eyebrow at her, and Hermione blushes at the realization she had not realized that her friend is sitting right on the other side of him. Slughorn drones about his former pupils for a few minutes before leaving the room to go fetch cake from the kitchen.

"Nice job on the Quidditch match today, Malfoy," Harry smirks. "You did really well. Say, have you ever caught the Snitch?"

"Shut up, Potter," Zabini hisses. "I do recall Granger saying something in second year about not being able to buy talent. You've got a Firebolt."

"Leave it, Zabini," Ginny snaps. "You're not even on the house team. You've tried out what, four years in a row now and not made the cut?"

"Blaise is still better than you, I reckon," Draco mutters. "Better him than a bunch of fucking Weasley. The whole lot of you is a disgrace."

"At least we're not cowards, Malfoy," Ginny replies coolly. "And the whole lot of us aren't Death Eaters, either. It's only a matter of time before your mother's locked up too."

"Be quiet," Hermione snaps. She does not realize what she has said until all the eyes at the table glance at her. Everyone is silent. "That was just too far."

Draco's eyes flicker up from the ground and at her. He runs his tongue along his teeth in discomfort. Slughorn bursts in at that moment, booming on about some run in with Peeves the Poltergeist, but Hermione is not listening. She is still focused on Draco. He mouths two words; undeniably a 'Thank you'.

::

"Why did you stand up for Malfoy?" Harry demands directly when they arrive back at the common room. "I mean, I don't get it."

"What she said was dreadful! I would stand up for anyone-

"But never Malfoy. Not before."

"Well I do now, alright? And you're just going to have to deal with it because he's not a bad person. He has feelings, Harry."

"He has no feelings except for self-satisfaction," objects Harry.

"Drop it," she warns.

He furrows his brow, "But 'Mione-

"Drop it."

He glares at her, but decides that Draco Malfoy is too much like S.P.E.W for Hermione to hear a word of logic against her new project.

::

Draco does not join in when his peers taunt Hermione in the Slytherin common room. They are taunting various things about her; her hair, her personality, her knowledge, her mannerisms. Sure, there are many things that he does agree with. There is no denying that. But he feels that he must repay her for standing up for him.

There is some guilt crossing his mind for not telling them to shove off, the way that she had, but he knows she would understand. Her friend is not as tough of a crowd to stand up to. No one would talk if she stood up for a Pureblood, but if he stood up for a Mudblood...

Their jeering laughter only makes him feel more sick to his stomach and he has to go into his dormitory for a number of minutes to calm himself before he can join them again.

::

Hermione hasn't spoken to him for two days, and it is beginning to bother her. She just wants to speak with him. She wonders if it is because she knows now, or if it's because the, or if it's because of her touching him, or if it's simply because there isn't much to say anymore. All they have shared is glances. The more she catches his eye, the more she loves those eyes.

And that scares her more than anything else.

::

She has grown too antsy, and too agitated from not speaking with him. So much so that she walks directly into him while they are patrolling as Prefect Duty. She backs away from him awkwardly, and he just smirks at her.

"Shut up," she mumbles.

"I don't believe I was talking to you."

Hermione bites her lip, hesitating. "Why is it that we haven't been speaking? Did I do something? Is it just because I know?"

"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me anymore," he admits, clenching his jaw. "You're saintly Hermione Granger; why would you hang around with one of the devil's workers."

"I don't know why I enjoy talking to you."

"Probably because you like getting on my nerves," he smirks and shakes his head.

"Something like that, yeah," she agrees, grinning back at him. "Are you... _Godric,_ this sounds stupid. Are you okay?"

"Don't try to talk about my feelings, Granger" he warns. "I don't like talking about that shit with anyone, really. Besides perhaps maybe Theo..."

"Oh... okay," she replies, as she doesn't have much else to say. "Well... I should get back to my duties then."

"You haven't told Dumbledore," he says in a loud voice as she is walking away. She turns her head slightly so she can look behind her and back at him. "Thanks, Granger. I would've thought that would be the first thing you'd do if you found out... why didn't you? We aren't friends."

She just shrugs, because she honestly doesn't know either. She doesn't know why she has grown to care for him so much, and why she would like to help him when he probably doesn't even think of her. He has already pointed out the issue with this.

She is an angel, and he is the devil.

Which could have either very bad or very good results.

::

Draco is horrified when he puts a canary inside the Vanishing Cabinet and a single feather comes back. The Vanishing Cabinet is working with little objects, and that scares him. He almost wishes he could slow his progress so he doesn't have to do what he is meant to. He slams his fist against the object and damns his father to hell.

::

She notices that his knuckles are swollen and bruised in Transfiguration and frowns. She wonders if he had gotten into a fight, or if it was just Quidditch, or perhaps something else... something more sinister. She doesn't like to think of the evil things he could be up to when she is not around. It is better for her not to. Her eyes move up to his forearm unconsciously, the forearm that she knows bears that ugly black mark.

"Would you stop staring at it, Granger?" he hisses.

Hermione is taken aback by his notice and can't seem to find words. "S-sorry. I'm sorry for staring at it."

He grunts in to acknowledge his dismissal and disinterest in her stuttered apology.

She looks at his hand again and then up at his features. He glares down at his paper, but she knows he is thinking about her rather than the work.

"Are you quite done?" he snaps.

"What happened to your hand?" she asks softly, motioning to it. "Did you get in a fight or something?"

"No," he replies simply, showing her that he does not want to talk about it at all. _Yes_, he thinks, _I got in a fight with myself_.

He does more fighting with himself than he does with anyone else, really. His own mind is more of an enemy than anyone else; perhaps even Voldemort.

"Oh."

He gives her an odd look, and shakes his head. She thinks he might think she is creepy, or strange, or perhaps even crazy. It's okay, however. She thinks so too, sometimes.

::

Draco is overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by everything there is. His mission, his inner conflict, his self-hatred, his exhaustion, his work load, his father. Draco is astounded that even when his father isn't around he is still afraid of what will happen if he didn't make him proud. He doesn't know if he has hated anyone more than his father.

There is an old closet in the Room of Requirement in which there is a boggart, and he opens it just because he is curious if it has changed. It hasn't.

In that moment, Lucius Malfoy is not in Azkaban. He is standing right in front of his son.

::


	5. An Unexpected Companion

**Chapter V - An Unexpected Companion**

Draco is thinking again, and thinking in present times never has good results. He wonders if he is better off dead, but feels that suicide would be a weak thing to do. But he has been weak his whole life hasn't he? He wants to confide in her, but he cannot. He thinks it is his pride keeping him from doing so.

He is worried for Theo, the only person he has opened up to completely. Theo is more than a peer; he is not like the others. He does not criticize every Muggleborn he sees, and he does not think having a Dark Mark is something positive. No, he sees a Dark Mark for what it is; a death sentence.

But Theo isn't like Draco. Theo doesn't have hope left. He is lost, and he is alone, most of the time. He doesn't know where his friend disappears to, but he knows it has to be on the grounds. Draco has asked before, but Theo has always just ignored the question like he cannot hear it.

Draco knows Theo is suicidal. He has always been. Back when the Malfoys and the Notts were on good terms, twelve-year-old Theo had stabbed himself with one of his father's daggers. He was not fast enough, and his parents got him to St. Mungo's. After that, he hadn't looked alive anymore, not really. Draco thinks a part of the before lively Theodore Nott Jr. died that day, the way a part of him did when he had taken the Dark Mark.

He had joked about it, saying things like 'It's funny, really. I can't even seem to kill myself right'. But if Theo jokes about something, it means that it hurts the most.

Draco worries that he will lose his friend, but most of all, he worries that he will lose himself, the same way Theo had long ago.

::

"You're not sleeping," Hermione points out as she sits beside him. She notices that Draco has dark bags under his eyes, and his pale skin has a small tinge of grey too it, like he is ill.

He glares at her (as she expected) like it is none of her business. She knows it isn't, but she can't help but ask. "No shit, Granger. You wouldn't be sleeping much if your best friend was suicidal and you had a Dark Mark on your arm."

"I would be too disgusted with myself," she says without thinking.

He has the same guarded expression he has always once again, though he drops it sometimes in front of her. She cringes. She shouldn't have said that. "Would you?" he murmurs, not looking at her.

"You're-you're not disgusting, Malfoy."

"You can't take it back" his tone is odd, like he is being careful not to say too much. "The same way I can't take it back."

Hermione tilts her head slightly to the side and meets his eyes. "Would you?" she asks.

"I can't tell you that, Granger," he sighs.

"Why?"

He runs his fingers through his platinum blonde hair and doesn't look at her for a moment, but his eyes are stone cold when he does. "Don't talk to me about shit like this, Granger. I don't wanna spill my deepest darkest secrets to you yet, alright?"

Yet, she notes.

And that is the key word to both of them, even though he is angry. He is always angry, really, and it's not like it's something she isn't used to. She nods her head. She does not want to say anything to this, as she is unsure if he means it as a warning, as a harsh statement, or as some odd implication of trust.

She does not know much about Draco Malfoy, but she knows that he trusts her, at least a little bit.

::

He is glaring at her, she can feel it against her skin. He has no right to be angry with her just because she made a mistake on their joint potions project. Or perhaps it is about the fact that she can't seem to stop staring at him. Merlin, she tries, but there is something about him that makes her eyes flicker his way.

"Stop," he snaps, glaring at her.

She looks away and blushes. "Stop what?"

"Staring, Granger," he rolls his eyes.

She tries to will the blush away, but it stays anyways, and deepens, if anything. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What do you have a disease that makes your eyes twitch?" he sneers. "I don't think so, Granger and I don't appreciate being watch while I try to fix your mistakes."

"You're just mad that Harry's beating you at Potions."

He scowls at her. "No, I just don't appreciate having you fuck everything up."

"You were making me nervous," she admits, cursing herself when she blushes again. "It's not easy to focus when you're staring at me while I work."

His tongue is boring into his cheek, she can see it, and she knows he is thinking. He does not look very angry anymore. "Is that so?" he asks in a tone she can't put her finger on. His eyes are very different now, they are darker, like he is angry, but she doesn't think he is angry anymore. He looks intrigued.

"Y-yes."

"Why?"

Her heart skips a beat or two, and she is wondering the answer to the question as much as he is. There is something like a magnetism forming towards him. She feels gravitated towards him, and she is intrigued with him in a way she doesn't know. "I'm not sure" she says quietly, meeting his eyes.

"Is it because..." he trails off, but his Adam's apple bobs in his throat and she can practically feel his guilt and self-loathing in the air.

"No" she replies firmly. She feels the need to repeat it, so she does. "It's not that."

He clenches and unclenches his jaw, and his body is much more tense than usual. His hand is rubbing his left forearm uncomfortably. He is unsure what to do with himself. But quickly, the conversation is ended as abruptly as it had started when their cauldron begins to smoke.

"Oh for the love of God," he groans.

::

Ron kisses Lavender Brown in the common room that night. Sure, Hermione does not feel as strongly towards him as she had before. She knows Malfoy is the cause of that, but chooses to ignore it. But still, it hurts her. She has been planning to ask Ron to Slughorn's party on Christmas Eve.

She is insecure, and she storms into an empty corridor, curls up against the wall in fetal position and cries. She feels like a stupid hormonal teenager, but that is what she is. Everyone is right now. She doesn't think that anyone will ever be interested in her like that.

"Why are you crying?" she hears a male voice murmur.

She is expecting Harry, or anyone, really. Anyone but Malfoy. His tone is too soft, and it is odd to her. He sits down beside her, but not too close. She has a feeling he is still slightly uncomfortable with her, especially after the conversation they had earlier.

"Why do you care, Malfoy?" she retorts. "Are you going to tease me or jeer at me or laugh at me because I'm a Mud-

"No," he replies coldly, glaring at her. "Actually, I was going to ask you if you were okay."

"Oh," she mumbles, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. "Why would you even care if I was okay, anyways?"

"We're friends, aren't we?" he raises his eyebrow. His lips twitch slightly, and he is not quite smirking. "Besides, you've stuck your nose in my business so much lately I thought I would return the favor."

Her lips part. Friends. She is surprised he thinks of her as a friend, since their relationship is so odd and unpredictable. But so is Malfoy, and he is always surprising her. "Not really," she bites her lip. He nods, and looks something like... hurt? She raises her eyebrows. "No, we're friends, I'm just... I'm not okay."

He looks down at his hands, which are intertwined at his knees. "Why?"

"You'll judge me."

"I have no place to," he counters. He does not meet her eyes. "I'm sure it's for a less... severe reason than the reason you would judge me."

She furrows her brow, meeting his eyes now. She is still crying, though she doesn't really know why anymore. She hesitates. "Ron kissed Lavender Brown. He told me he'd go to Slughorn's stupid party with me."

Draco snorts. "Well Weasley has always been an idiot, hasn't he?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, though she is not sure she wants to know.

He doesn't say anything, but he aims a look at the wall of the narrow corridor that she can not quite name. She feels so young and naive when she feels butterflies in her stomach. She thinks she knows exactly what she means.

"Th-thanks."

"I could accompany you. You know, solely to piss of Weasley. Imagine the look on his face. It would be priceless" he smirks. "Plus, he would see me as a threat to him, as I'm so superior to him."

Her eyebrows practically fly off her forehead, she is sure, and her face must be shocked because he laughs at her. "Are you asking me out on a date, Malfoy?"

"No," he remarks a little too quickly, and she is sure she looks as skeptical as she feels. "Simply an act, you know, to throw off Weasley."

"Right," she agrees.

"Just consider it a favor... friend to friend."

She stands up them, and she has forgotten about Ron all together, really, until Draco has brought him up. He mimics her, but he is looking much more awkward than she is. He is probably as surprised as she is when she wraps her arms around his chest for a brief hug. He takes a moment to respond, and he is uncomfortable. He does not move, and his body becomes rigid as though he is uncomfortable, but he does not pull away from her.

"Th-thanks, Malfoy. I think I feel better now."

::

She glares at Ron all through breakfast. He looks smug, and she is quite sure of what he had done last night. There is a certain new pride in his stature. Harry looks at her sympathetically.

"Hey, can you write my essay?" Ron questions.

She ignores him, but stabs her fork more viciously into her pancake than she needs to. Harry chuckles, and she glares at him too.

"What's gotten into you? Is it that time of the month?"

She viciously cuts her pancake into pieces, and she is not happy with him. "Piss off."

"Look, 'Mione... it wasn't really anything with Lavender last night. I'm still going with you to the party and-

"Someone else has asked me," she replies coldly, smirking now.

Ron furrows his brow. "What? Who? Surely you didn't say yes! You wouldn't-

"Don't tell me what I would and wouldn't do" she narrows her eyes. "Besides, I'd rather go with him anyways."

"Who is he?" presses Ron again.

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

Ginny looks interested in the conversation now, and she mouths 'tell me later'. Hermione nods, because she trusts Ginny. She wouldn't be angry, as she has remarked a thousand times that she thinks Malfoy is attractive.

Ron ignores her for the rest of the meal, and she feels more grateful towards Malfoy than she ever has in her life.

::

"Let me do it," snaps Draco, yanking the Bicorn horn from her hand. "We've already had to start over twice."

"Well you were the one that kept screwing up in Transfiguration-

"We're in Potions, Granger. Still lovesick? Pissed that Weasel King isn't interested in you? You shouldn't be surprised."

She looks at him as though she can't even believe him, and the words hurt her in a way she did not know they could. She reacts to Malfoy more extremely than she does to anyone else, which is bad considering how unstable he is.

He curses and grabs his arm as though he is in pain, and his moodiness makes a little more sense to her now.

::

After lunch, he sits beside her in Arithmancy, despite the fact that they are allowed to choose their seats this class period. Pansy Parkinson's nose is further up in the air than ever, and she looks more foul-tempered than ever.

He doesn't speak to her for a while, but Hermione doesn't feel that he is angry with her. He seems to be considering something, and finally, he drops his quill and sighs. She looks at him curiously. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, looking defeated. She arches an eyebrow as though she has not heard him right. "This is a one off. I don't apologize for shit usually."

"So our..." she has to think on the word to use, and she does not know why. "Friendship, is still okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Great."

::

She does not think she will ever stop arguing with him. They are shouting at each other in the Prefects bathroom, arguing over who gets to take a bath, as neither of them want to bathe with each other. But intriguing images are crossing through both of their minds.

He walks towards her in a predatory way, and he is in her face. "I suggest you leave, Granger. I don't want to be in close proximity of yourself when I'm naked."

"Likewise, Malfoy."

"Most girls would say otherwise, though. Wish I could say the same for you. You've hardly got men worshiping you, Granger."

She prepares to retort, taking a defiant step towards him, but she stumbles into him instead. He catches her by instinct, and their faces are near touching now. She can feel his breath. His eyes have that dark to them that had been there the other day; the kind of dark that wasn't angry, but she didn't know what exactly it was. She parts her lips, and she is expecting him to kiss her, but he releases her after a moment that felt as though it had been hours long.

Both of them are still breathing heavily, and Malfoy speaks first. "You can have the bathroom, Granger."

::

Hermione is expecting Ginny to start questioning her the moment she comes through the portrait hole, and she is quite right. Her hair is still wet from her shower, so she sits by the fire to warm up. Their common room is always drafty when winter is approaching. Ginny sits beside her, practically running over.

It is empty in the common room, as it is so late, but she expects Ginny has been up just for that moment. Ginny is wearing a bathrobe that she always sleeps in, and she smirks when Hermione is shivering. Hermione has always asked her why she sleeps in that damned thing all the time, as she would be too hot in it. "So... your date?"

Hermione grins. "You've been waiting here all night to ask me who it is, haven't you? That's why you're still up."

"Guilty as charged," the redhead replies, returning the grin. She places her hand on Hermione's knees. "Seriously, who is it?"

"Swear to me you won't tell anyone," Hermione demands.

"Not a soul."

Hermione bites her lip with nervous anticipation, and she feels as though she is confessing an even sin. "Malfoy asked me," she whispers.

Ginny smirks a smirk that is worthy of Malfoy himself and chuckles. "I totally saw this coming. You two have had tension since the start of the year, mark my words. You said yes?"

She nods. "I said yes. I don't know if it will even last, though. We have three weeks before Christmas Eve and we argue majority of the time."

Ginny snorts. "You two bicker like a married couple. Have you shagged him?"

Hermione giggles. "Ginny!"

"I would have," says the redhead. "I've heard rumors about him, and all of them are positive in that area. I've heard his dick's as long as his wand and-"

"Ginny!" Hermione yelps. She feels so innocent when she is near Ginny. She has only snogged, and they are not even heated; she has especially not shagged someone. "That's vulgar."

Ginny shrugs. "Just repeating what I've heard from Padma."

"He shagged a Ravenclaw? When?"

"Last year. I don't think he's been as promiscuous this year. He hasn't really been his usual arrogant self. I reckon something's going on with him."

"There has been."

"He told you?" asks Ginny in an amazed tone.

"Well, I sort of prodded him and found out on my own. But I guess in a way he did. He didn't stop me."

"Did you snog him at least?"

"Not yet."

"Yet's the key word," Ginny giggles.

Hermione groans.

"Do you have feelings for him? Or is he just eye candy and spite for my idiotic brother?"

"I do" she admits. It is the first time she has admitted it to herself, and the words slip before she can even think. "I just wish it wasn't complicated."

"He's Draco Malfoy, and you're Hermione Granger" the redhead smirks. "Of course it's going to be complicated."

::

"Theo," Draco groans, pounding on the locked door to his dormitory. "Open up. I'll open it myself anyways. I don't want to be out here all night!"

There is a drunken murmur and a crash. He can't make out any of the slurred words. This is definitely not the first time that Theo has done this, but this is the most concerning to him. Theo's behavior is on a downward spiral again.

"I already know the room's trashed with the way you're acting, Just please, Theo."

There are a few more crashing sounds, some cursing and what sounds like stumbling. Finally, a very disheveled Theo is standing in the doorway, firewhiskey in hand. His blue eyes are bloodshot, and his fists are bruised and bleeding. There are a few more bruises on various other places on his body, and love bites cover the right side of his neck.

Theo stumbles back into the room directly back into the room and looks out the window; Draco watches his every step with his grey eyes narrowed the whole time. The room is askew. Theo's nightstand is overturned and the lamp smashed against the wall at the other side of the room. His pillows are torn up and feathers cover the place. His metal trunk has a dent in it, and there is a hole in the wall near his bed.

"Shit," Draco mutters under his breath, examining the mess.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Theo snorts. "You should see my conscious, and my morals, and my soul. 'Be a Slytherin and make your mother and I proud'".

"Theo-

"What, so you can murder her in front of me?" he roars, agony in his voice. Every tendon in his neck is flexed, and he chokes back a sob. "So you can force me to be a Death Eater and make me meet the-

"Theo-

"Same fucking end that she did? So you can tell me not to throw myself off a bridge when you're the one-

"Theo-

"Who made me feel like this? I hear you loud and clear, Draco. What, tired of listening to my problems?" Nott nods and clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "I'm a lost cause, anyways. Suppose it's good I've taken the potion."

Draco's heart speeds up in his chest. "What potion?"

"Pain potion. Makes the pain go away."

"Shit, Theo," Draco shouts. "What fucking potion did you take?"

"Poison. Stole it from Snape's office. Nicked it. Should only be a few minutes now, unless you do what I suspect you'll think is right. Petrify me and send me off-

"I won't have to petrify you unless you don't cooperate with me" says Draco, drawing his wand anyways. "Let me take you to the hospital wing."

"In this state? They'll-

"Madam Pomfrey won't give a shit about any of the rules you've broken as long as you're alive and not dead."

Theo smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes with the same arrogant light they usually have when he smirks. "Granger's rubbing off on you? Draco Malfoy the fucking noble. You're not your father after all. Your father would let me rot. Call me weak or something."

Draco's jaw clenches. He grabs his friend's wrist and begins to pull him towards the hospital wing. This will be a very long night.

::

Hermione waits for him, but he does not show up at the Prefect's bathroom that night. She guesses he has other things to do. She worries something has happened, or perhaps that him and Pansy Parkinson are back together. She wonders why that would be on her mind at all, but she knows, deep down.

She misses him that night, and the both inner turmoil and inner peace his presence brings to her.

::

She is waiting in the Entrance Hall after breakfast so she can ask him what happened when he gets out. It is Saturday, so this may be her only chance to speak with him all day. To her surprise, he comes from down from one of the staircases to the upper floors rather than from the staircase to the dungeons where his common room is. He is more pale and more worn down than she has ever seen him, and she can tell it takes him a moment to even notice her. She is glad he has no companion so she an talk to him, no excuses and no questions asked.

"You look exhausted," she murmurs as he comes to a stop in front of her. "Where were-

"Theo."

"Who?"

"You wouldn't know him by his nickname. Nott? Our year? Brunette?"

"What about him?" she asks, furrowing her brow. "Why did he keep you up all night? Did you two duel or something?"

He shakes his head. "Can we talk somewhere else? We're attracting attention."

"How about at the boathouse? No one will be out there today, not with this weather. I can cast a Protective Charm around us so we don't get wet."

"Leave it, I like the rain. But we shouldn't walk together. I'll meet you there in a few minutes. You leave out of the Entrance Hall and I'll take a shortcut I know through a portrait. We can't risk anything in present times. Wouldn't want anyone to know that I was in contact with someone from Potter's group of friends. It would raise too many eyebrows."

::

Hermione is surprised when he is there waiting for her, as she had been expecting to make it there first, but she sits beside him regardless. She is soaked; her thick wool coat is drenched and she is shivering. He doesn't seem too cold, though, and his own coat is perfectly dry, despite that his hair is stuck to his forehead in all directions from the precipitation. She is confused for a moment, before she remembers that he is Malfoy. Probably some fancy magic fabric, she thinks.

"Your hair is wet," she points out before she can process the stupidity of what she's saying.

He scowls at her. "Well no shit. It's raining. You don't exactly look polished either, Granger. Your hair's more chaotic than usual. An owl or two probably hid inside to keep out of the rain."

Hermione glares at him for a few tense moments before she sits two feet away, facing him. His posture is lazy, he is sitting on the wooden dock with his arms propping him up from behind his back. "We came to talk, not for you to mock my appearance."

He arches an eyebrow, "There's a difference?"

"You wanted to talk about your friend."

"I didn't say I wanted to talk about anything," he protests, raising his eyebrows. "You were the one assuming I wanted to tell you all about my life issues and have a pity party about my shit life. Everyone's life is shit right now. I'm nothing special there."

"You want to talk," she says firmly. He licks his lip and looks down to the lake water so he does not have to meet her eyes. She can feel his discomfort. "You want to talk or you wouldn't have met me here."

He sighs, and his light grey eyes meet her amber ones again. "What do you want from me, Granger? What do you want me to say to you? That I'm sad. That I regret being a Death Eater. That I'm so stressed I throw up everything I take in?"

"I don't want to hear that," she replies quietly. He makes a sound of disbelief before he throws him a sharp look indicating she has more to say. "But if that's what you have to get off your chest, then say it. I'm listening."

His lips twitch into a reluctant smile. "You're the most stubborn witch I've ever known, you know that?"

"You're not exactly a ray of sunshine ei-

"I like it."

She studies him. She thinks he is testing her, but she can't be sure. There is nothing she can be sure about when it comes to him. He is unpredictable; ever changing, just as the weather is. Thunder rumbles, breaking their silence.

"Theo tried to take his life yesterday" he rushes to continue when he hears her sharp intake of breath. "I took him to the hospital wing before anything could happen and said it was an accident, but still it happened."

She is saddened by this. She has never particularly minded Theodore Nott. He is quiet, and he seems to keep to himself. He has never taunted her like the other Slytherins had. He seems decent. "I'm sorry about your friend, Malfoy."

"He won't be the last to break," Draco mumbles, wincing. "Mark my words, he won't. We're all breaking now. It's a matter of time for all of us, now. He was just the first one."

"I know."

The rain is pouring harder now, and Hermione is shivering harder than ever. He still looks tense, and he is not moving a muscle. "You didn't have to bring us out here, Granger. We could've just used the Room of Requirement."

She scowls at him. "Th-thanks f-for g-giving m-me th-the idea n-now, M-Malfoy," she hisses through chattering teeth. "R-really th-thoughtful of y-you."

He snorts, smirking. "Gryffindor bravery isn't so strong when it's raining, huh? What are you afraid of?" he pauses for a moment, his smirk vanishing. He leans closer towards her, his expression unreadable. "You'd think I'd scare you more than a little rain."

"J-just because I'm shivering d-doesn't mean I'm s-scared."

"Sure, Granger."

She shakes her head, glaring at her blonde companion, feeling odd because she could call him that now. Her companion, Draco Malfoy.

::

"So how's Granger?" Theo smirks, and then he is coughing for quite a long time. He is still having side effects from the poison, but he is mainly better. It is Sunday morning, and only a few hours remain of his stay in the hospital wing.

"I come here to visit you on what could have been your deathbed and you ask me about Granger?" Draco groans. "For God's sake, Theo. You've got your priorities all wrong."

"Don't reckon I'll be arou-

"Don't finish that sentence" he warns. "I don't want to hear it right now. And I'm going to Slughorn's party with her; solely for revenge on Weasley. He snogged Lavender Brown or something."

"Just for revenge?" Theo asks, arching an eyebrow and chuckling under his breath.

Draco glares at him. "Isn't that what I just said? Yeah, it's just for revenge."

"Sure," Theo shakes his head, smirking. "Well have fun with your erh- 'revenge', Draco."

The blonde's eyes trail to Theo's neck, his love bites now a bright red rather than the deep purple they had been the day before. "Who did you shag?"

"Parvati Patil," Theo answers proudly. "She's always been a looker, after all. How could I resist it? She pursued me and I wasn't about to say know. You shagged Padma, didn't you?"

"Don't remind me," Draco groans. "God awful. Never again."

"Yeah, you'll be off shagging Granger for 'revenge' soon, anyways" he chuckles. "You know, Draco, you can just admit you fancy her rather than beating around the bush."

Draco is about to reply when Pansy Parkinson comes storming through the door, lecturing Theo for shagging a Gryffindor.

As Pansy rambles on, Draco can't help his mind from wandering to being off shagging Granger. The thought is a lot more enticing than it should be.

::

"Where were you all day yesterday, 'Mione?" asks Ron at breakfast. Hermione notices Lavender grab his hand tighter. Hermione snorts. "I didn't see you all day."

"That," states Hermione coolly. "Is none of your business."

Her gaze lingers on Malfoy, who has just entered the Great Hall. Ginny seems to notice.

Ginny's eyes dart to Malfoy suspiciously and she arches an eyebrow. "Yeah, I didn't see you either."

"I was at the library, if it matters so much to all of you."

"You're always off at the library," Lavender jeers under her breath. "No surprise there. Probably reading up on how to charm your hair"

"Well you're always off sleeping around, Brown, so I would keep your mouth shut, if I were you," says the voice of Draco Malfoy harshly. Lavender looks both offended and shocked.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Ginny demands. She seems to be asking Hermione more than Malfoy.

Hermione turns around nervously and indeed sees his pale and proud figure standing there. "Malfoy!" she exclaims, flinching with her surprise. Her elbow knocks over her glass of pumpkin juice, and he snorts. "Oh shut up."

"Graceful as ever, Granger," he remarks, trying to fight back a grin. "I'm simply here to deliver a message to you, Weaslette and Potter. Slughorn's throwing a party Tuesday night, and he expects you there."

"Tell him we will," Harry replies, furrowing his brow and looking to Hermione with the same suspicion Ginny had shown just seconds before. "You can leave now, Malfoy."

Draco's eyes linger on Hermione for a moment before he goes before he nods, walking away.

::

Lavender teases her to no end on Monday, about everything she says and does. It is beginning to break her, and she is on the verge of tears by the end of Transfiguration. She thinks she imagines the supporting hand on her shoulder as she is walking to the library, but she looks to see Draco.

"What-

"Are you alright?" he asks. "Brown's a slag, anyways. You know that."

"Fine," she replies.

Fine _now._

"Thanks, Draco. For being... for being my friend."

::

He is on the bathroom floor Monday night in absolute agony. He should be in the feast, but instead, he is shirtless and clutching his scarlet red and swollen Dark Mark, and muttering profanities whenever he needs to. He is not surprised when she comes in, and of course he has to wince right then. He does not want to talk about it at all, or to appear weak. Not when he is this angry.

"What's going on? Are you feeling okay?" she questions hesitantly, sitting beside him. Her eyes trail over his shirtless body. He is slender, his build lean but not lacking muscle. His abdominal muscles are perfectly sculpted, and her eyes follow the trail of light blonde hair down to the waist band of his trousers. She blushes when she notices that he is smirking at her.

He curses again when a sharp pain runs through his arm. "Bloody spectacular."

"No need to be short with me."

"Whatever, Granger. Just... stay" he requests, meeting her eyes. His grey gaze is softer than she has ever seen it. "Please."

"Okay," she whispers, smiling nervously.

"Thanks, Granger," he echoes her words from earlier, grinning. "For being my friend."

::

**Author's Note**

Yay another chapter happy Sunday (or Monday depending on where you live in the world haha) thanks for reading xoxo


	6. No Man's Land

**Chapter VI - No Man's Land**

Hermione is late to Potions Tuesday morning. She isn't sure how she managed to oversleep, but she can feel the long nights talking with Draco catching up with her. But she won't stop. No, it is worth far more than a little fatigue.

"_Tsk tsk_, Granger," mutters Draco. He makes a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue and smirks. "You're ten minutes late."

"Well if I remember correctly, you were the one who asked me to stay with you and stay awake until ungodly hours in the morning."

"I'm not at fault for your woes," he drawls in a bored tone. "Well, you missed what we're talking about in class. Slughorn's making us gather ingredients for Amortentia. He wants us to make it and learn it's properties."

"Wait... I have to make a love potion with you?"

He scowls at her. "Isn't that what I just said?"

"Yes but... that's ridiculous."

Draco shrugs. "Could be worse. We could be taking love potion and being forced to love each other. I think that would top all the possible bad situations in Potions class."

"Well whose hairs are we going to use, mine or yours?"

"I reckon anyone would be better off fancying me than fancying you. Who would want to fancy you? Plus I reckon your hair would set the cauldron on fire or mess it up the way it messes itself up on your head."

"You're a bastard," she glares at him.

He smirks and raises his eyebrows. "Well you must like it, Granger, because you spend a lot of time with this bastard."

"Unfortunately," she mumbles, shaking her head. "I think if your ego got any larger..."

"I simply recognize my many talents," he protests.

"Or your lack of them. Egoistic might be your only one."

His smirk looks entirely different now, and she his eyes are unreadable. His expression is different though he has not moved a muscle. "I assure you, Granger, I'm talented in many different ways," he drawls into her ear. A shiver runs down her spine at this, and his breath makes the hairs on her neck stand up.

"Oh."

He lets out a short bark of laughter. "Oh? Did I distract you? That seems to be another thing on my long list of talents."

"I would say you did, but your ego doesn't need to be any larger."

He snorts. "Whatever. Let's just look at the ingredient list, alright? As much as I like our little banter, I don't want to look as clueless as Weasel does right now."

Hermione smiles and shakes her head. "You're stupid."

"Has anyone ever told you what an insufferable bitch you are?"

"You have."

"Right," he replies, smirking again.

She knows there is no hope of getting work done with him anymore. He is the only one who can make her lose track of time and forget what she is doing, and she is more grateful towards him for this than he will ever know.

::

The Slug Club meets in Slughorn's office, as usual. Hermione takes the seat across from Draco, not wanting to draw attention by sitting beside him. As they eat dinner, they repeatedly find themselves reaching for the same thing, or the same objects. The simple brushes of their hands from this makes electricity move through both of them in a way they did not know was possible. It is as though they are meant to touch, to interact.

Hermione pays no attention to Slughorn, and her eyes cannot manage to leave Draco. There is something that is so alluring about him. So many of his features are so wicked, and yet she cannot seem to pay attention to anyone but him most of the time. He lingers in her thoughts, no matter how much she tries to will him out.

It is not until he laughs at something that Slughorn said that Hermione realizes just how attracted to him she is. His lips, his teeth, the crinkles he gets near his eyes and the subtle dimples at either cheek are all so attractive. Everything about him is. And his eyes, Godric, his eyes. She gets lost in them. The light grey eyes that light up when he laughs, that darken when he is angry, or when he is feeling something else that she has not yet pinpointed, and often that soften when they are on her.

"Isn't that right, Hermione?" Slughorn questions suddenly.

She is surprised, and Draco smirks at her. Her heart hitches in her throat at that damned smirk. He is the reason she hasn't been paying attention, and he knows that. He is so smug. Prat. "Oh... oh yes, very right, Professor."

Draco hides his laughter with a feigned coughing fit, and she glares at him.

"You seem a little distracted," Slughorn points out. "What's on that intelligent mind of yours that's making you so distant?"

_Malfoy_, she wants to answer. "Just an essay I'm writing... yes, I just realized something... for my essay."

"Well I'd appreciate if you participate in our conversation, Hermione."

"Yeah, alright," she sighs.

Draco doesn't stop laughing for the rest of the dinner.

::

"You're in deep, aren't you?" Ginny asks abruptly when they are back in the common room and in front of the warm, cozy fireplace.

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't look away from him for that whole hour and a half, and you even got distracted by him," Ginny replies matter-of-factly. "I don't buy the essay excuse one bit, and I don't think anyone else did, either."

"I had to think of something," she says sheepishly. "And like he said, I was 'distracted.'"

"Malfoy's eyes didn't leave you after that, you know. Not for a long while."

"Yeah, the arrogant bastard was smirking for a half an hour, tell me something I don't know," Hermione rolls her eyes. "He's so incorrigible, and proud, and self-righteous, and haughty, and argumentative-

"But you have feelings for him."

"Yeah," Hermione murmurs. "I still do."

::

She leaves the common room an hour later to meet Draco. This has become their routine; meeting at 11 o'clock at night. She puts on her slippers and walks to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the way she always does. He is waiting for her there, as usual, and he smirks in acknowledgement of her. "What are you smirking about, Malfoy?"

"You should've seen yourself at that dinner," he replies, chuckling under his breath. "You were practically _drooling_."

She purses her lips and blushes, and she decides to defend herself, despite the fact she knows he is right. "I was not!"

"Sure, Granger. I won't believe you. I'm a lot more slick when it comes to staring than you are. I do it when no one's looking."

"But you stare?"

He meets her eyes and lets out a single breathy laugh, smirking at her. "Yes, Granger, I stare."

She is blushing crimson now, she can feel the warmth in her face. She thinks she would be ashamed if she saw how red she is right now. She is desperate to change the subject. "How was your erh... day?"

"You're avoiding the conversation," he points out, standing up and walking towards her. "And rather poorly, too, I might add. My day was as shitty as the rest of them."

"Why?" she asks, still avoiding the conversation.

"Well you wouldn't exactly be all bubbly and optimistic if you had a Dark Mark on your arm either, Granger. And my mission..." he trails off and his eyes widen. He did not mean to say that. He curses under his breath.

"Mission?" she raises her eyebrows.

"Forget I said anything. You already know too much and-

"What mission?" she presses. "Is this your mission? Becoming friends with Mudblood Hermione Granger?"

"No!" he growls. "Just forget I said anything about it-

"Tell me-

"It's not your business," he replies coldly. "And if you're going to linger on the matter, I suggest you leave now before I get too angry."

"I deserve to know."

"You don't deserve anything, Granger. What, you think I'm going to pour my heart out to you after a few conversations? Do you think that's who I am? I'm not a bleeding heart Gryffindor like you."

"The way you're acting is completely uncalled for and you know it-

"No it isn't!" he exclaims, raising his voice now. "It's not uncalled for. You nose your way into all of my business and when I tell you one thing it's never enough for you."

"So what, you're complaining about me supporting you-

"Some support you've offered! Screaming at me over a little thing-

"A little thing? You're a Death Eater who's inside Hogwarts and now there's something about a mission! You're betraying everyone! You're betraying yourself, even. I thought you were better than that!"

"Then obviously you don't know me as well as you like to think you do" he shouts. He massages the bridge of his nose. "Just get out before I lose my temper, Granger."

"No! I'm not leaving until we work this out!"

"There's nothing to work out" he retorts. "You're a nosy Mudblood who won't get out of my business and there's nothing more than that."

"You're going to betray everyone with your stupid mission. I thought you didn't want to be a Death Eater. If you didn't want to, you wouldn't be doing this! You're nothing more than a fucking coward who thinks he's superior to everyone else because of his blood and ugly mark on his arm."

He nods and licks his lip. There is no warmth left in his expression anymore, it is blank, cold and harsh. "Get out, Granger."

She sucks in a sharp breath. She regrets what she has said now. "I-I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean-

"Get out," he croaks. He is shaking, and he has propped himself up on the sink to relieve tension from his shaking limbs. She doesn't move a muscle. "_Get out_, Granger."

She does not protest this time, and there is an agony his voice that she can't possibly ignore.

He sobs once she is gone because he knows that she is right.

::

They do not speak for all of Transfiguration that day, and silence has never felt so loud to either of them. He does not even look at her.

::

His posture stiffens when she sits beside him in Arithmancy, and he is determined not to look at here, so he simply glares at the wall. They are both still angry, and there is no denying that. But Hermione feels a need to make up for what she had said. "I'm sorry."

Draco raises his eyebrows, and he is still not looking at her. "Are you now?"

"Y-yes. I was angry," she explains. "It was stupid of me to say something that way, and you have to admit that you provoked me."

"I thought it would make you go away," he replies. "But you always stick around. No doubt because you want to irritate me to death."

She snorts. "If anyone of us tries to irritate the other it's you."

"I beg to differ," he counters. His eyes will still not budge from the wall. "You're probably the most infuriating person I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"Yeah, I hate you too Malfoy" she snaps. She thinks about what they are saying and then she bursts out in full on laughter. He cannot help but twitch his lips into a not-quite smile. "But I'm sure it's a mutual feeling. We hate each other most of the time."

"I don't hate you, Granger," he says quietly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in what feels like forever. "I don't think I could."

"Why?"

"Because I like you. You're different than everyone else I've ever met. Infuriating, yes, but somehow refreshing."

She arches an eyebrow as if he cannot possibly be serious.

"You keep me on my toes," he continues. "You are unpredictable."

"Hmm," she hums. "Well, you aren't exactly what I expected you to be, either."

"How am I different from what you expected, Granger?"

"Well, you're not different in all ways," she shrugs casually. "You're still a stubborn, argumentative prat."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. We've been over this. Just answer my question rather than avoiding it."

"You won't like what you hear," she tells him.

He snorts. "Granger, I don't think I've ever really liked anything I've heard in my life. It's not like I'm not used to it. I don't stay up late at night crying over your opinion of me."

"No, no, no," she shakes her head, meeting his grey eyes. "It's not negative, Draco. Not in the slightest... well you might consider it negative. But I'm not calling you a sap when I say this."

"Alright."

"You're much more... considerate. You're more intelligent, more trustworthy, more loyal, more caring... just more of everything, besides cruel and cold. You're far less of that. You're still more annoying than I thought, and more stubborn, but you are most of all more tolerable than I thought."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you would," she nods. "That's why I knew I could still insult you. You're just... _more_."

"I get more of a reaction out of you with everything I do to you than anyone else, don't I?" he smirks and then runs his tongue across his dry lips just as habit.

Her heart speeds up, an her throat makes a strange sound. She thinks he has noticed, because his smirk begins to widen after that. There are just too many flirtatious undertones to that comment for her to not be blushing in that moment. But he is so right. Every feeling of rage, every feeling of compassion, of trust, of attraction, he can get far more from her than anyone else. New sinful ways he could make her feel more run through her thoughts, and she turns pinker.

"Y-yes. You do, Malfoy."

"I'm always looking for new ways to coax a reaction to you," he rasps into her ear. His breath is hot against it and it makes her shiver.

"Is this something you'd like to share with the class, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Vector asks sharply. "You've payed no attentions to the slides I've been teaching."

Neither of them reply and Hermione is shaking her head fervently to herself, partially to will the images out of her mind and partially because this is embarrassing. Everyone is looking at them now and she feels like crawling under her desk. Malfoy looks at her with an arched eyebrow and begins chuckling to himself.

She thinks her attraction towards him is reaching dangerous levels, because she is drawn to him by everything he does. He runs his tongue across his teeth like he always does when he is either thinking or uncomfortable, and more sinful images run through her mind. _This is not good at all_, she thinks.

::

"What was up with you and Malfoy today in Arithmancy?" Lavender Brown hisses at her curiously as they sit down beside each other in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "What were you saying?"

Hermione turns faintly pink. She turns even pinker once she notices Ron sitting on the opposite side of Lavender. He is listening into the conversation. "We were just talking-

Lavender interrupts her with a snort. "Right, Hermione. Just talking. You two have been flirting all month and it's not exactly very secretive. He was hissing right into your ear today and leaning towards you and it was just... obvious."

"Malfoy, Hermione? Are you really that desperate?" Ron asks, laughing under his breath.

It is then when Malfoy sits down at the opposite side of Hermione. She was unaware he was even here listening up until now. "I suggest the both of you stay out of business that isn't yours."

Lavender glares daggers at the blonde. "Says you, you've been eavesdropping."

"I heard my name," he counters, raising his eyebrows. "And you're one to talk about eavesdropping, Brown. You're the one harassing her about something you overheard."

Hermione feels a strange surge of affection for Malfoy run through her. He is defending her, and she is grateful. He has been defending her for a while now.

"And by the way, Weasley, I wouldn't talk about being desperate. You're the one who's with the girl three quarters of the school has shagged. I suggest you look into that. Zabini's shagged her, Nott has shagged her, I think even Goyle shagged her."

"Come on, Ron," Lavender gets up from her seat, taking Ron's hand. "Let's go sit somewhere away from him. And Malfoy, you've got quite the track record yourself."

"I know," he smirks, looking more proud than anything else.

Once Ron and Lavender have left, Hermione places her small, dainty hand over his large, firm one in a way that might be too affectionate judging by the look he gives her, but his eyes are soft even in their glare and he does not swat her hand away. "Thank you."

"Well Brown gets on my nerves. It's the least I can do."

"Let's meet up at the library after class and just... talk. I just want to talk to you where others can't hear."

"Okay," he agrees.

He does not remove his hand from under hers for the rest of the lesson.

::

They meet in the library, as agreed. They are in the back row of bookshelves away from sight, and she feels so natural, laughing at something he's said. She almost feels like they are a normal shy couple, which scares her for many reasons. For one, they are not normal or conventional in the slightest, and for another, she is not sure when she began to consider them a couple. They had yet to even kiss, or do anything, really, besides flirt and talk, but what else would they be?

She spends more time around him than anyone else these days. Harry is usually with Ron, or with Dumbledore, and she refuses to speak to Ron at all. Ginny is studying for her OWLs, and focusing on her giant load of homework. She uses these as excuses, but secretly, she thinks even if everyone else weren't busy, she would spend the most time with him anyways.

"Isn't it weird like this?" she asks abruptly. His eyes meet hers, and his expression indicates he has no clue what she's talking about. "When we're not arguing, I mean."

"Not really. We still don't hate each other when we're arguing, after all."

"Don't hate? That's all?" she questions.

He studies her for a moment. "How do you feel about me, Granger?"

She is caught off guard by the question, and she wonders if she should lie, or just answer in some sarcastic way like 'Obviously I hate being around you' or 'I still hate you, why else would I be around you all the time?', but something about his tone shows her that he wants the honest truth. She does not know if she wants to give it, and even more, she does not know what she feels about him, in all honesty. "I'm not sure" she replies.

"Yeah," he nods in agreement. "I'm not either."

"I might feel... I don't know... I've thought about you alot more-

"Get to the point, Granger," he huffs.

"I don't... I'm not sure what it is but I feel that there's something there, and I don't believe it was there before. And it's always there now whenever I'm around you. I've tried to ignore it but-

"Erh, same," he says, somewhat uncomfortably. He seems to think the conversation is going in a dangerous and foreign direction from him. "But I'm not sure what it is yet. This is no man's land for me... I'm not sure what to expect."

"Perhaps we should um... explore the possibilities?"

He grins in a way that shows he is struggling to keep down laughter. "Was that your attempt at flirting?"

She blushes. "Was it really that bad?"

He chuckles for a moment, before his expression becomes serious.

"Yes, Granger," he drawls, walking in a predatory manner until his face is inches from hers and pressing her up against the bookshelf, his arm raised over them and leaning against the bookshelf. He can feel her breath against his neck, and he hasn't noticed how much taller he is than her until now. "Perhaps we should explore the possibilities."

She wonders how she has gotten herself into this situation, and she is both nervous and anticipating. She shivers when he ghosts his fingers up her arm. They are barely there, and the contact is almost nothing, but perhaps that's what teases her more. Her head is spinning, and she is standing on her tiptoes now so her mouth can be closer to his. Their lips are so close that if either one of them leaned forward even the slightest bit they would be kissing.

Her lips part, expecting his mouth to come over her, but they do not. She wonders if he is waiting for her to kiss him. She rests her fingers at his neck, trailing them up towards his hairline. His lips are parted too, now, and he licks them, expecting. She is breathing too quick, and too heavy, but he is too, so she is not bothered. Her heart is practically in her throat.

She does not want to kiss him yet, she just wants to touch him and feel his breath against her skin. It is blissful and wrong, but perhaps that is what makes it feel so, so right. She runs trails her fingers down his neck and shoulders, and skids them back up his arm. She feels goosebumps form under her touch.

"Are you cold?" she murmurs, her fingers tracing over his sharp cheekbones. She just wants to touch him, to explore the feel of his bone structure and his body and just him.

"No," he answers simply.

She brings her eyes back up to his, and they are dark with want and perhaps even need. She is quite certain that it is need for her. They are so close that her eyelashes are batting against his skin. She studies his features this close and Godric, he is beautiful. His skin is spotless and a perfect alabaster, but it is slightly flushed now, and his eyes are darker than their usual light, light silver. Right now they are dark grey, the same dark grey as the sky outside is in late November, and the color Hermione would see if she were to look out the window.

"Are you going to stand here or kiss me, Granger?"

"I just-

They are brought harshly back to reality when Luna Lovegood enters the back row of books and she looks at them with the usual dreamy look in her eyes. He pulls away from her awkwardly and looks down at the ground. She glares at him because he has chosen now to become mute, when she needs him to speak most. She is not sure if words had returned to her yet, and her breaths are still shallow and quick.

Luna is standing there, waiting for Hermione to say something.

"I... This..." she tries, and then shakes her head at herself. She decides not to explain, but just to ask something simple of her friend. "Don't tell anyone what you saw."

"I won't, Hermione," Luna assures in her usual singsong voice. When she looks back at where Draco was standing, he has already fled the room. Of course.

Hermione nods before leaving the room, crimson on her cheeks and still breathing heavy when she returns to the common room.

::

She has been trying endlessly to work on her essay, but the thought of earlier will not stop crossing her mind. It won't leave her alone. They were so close to giving in and relieving some of the tension that has been building up for the good part of two months.

She finally gives up, dropping her quill and running her fingers through her hair. She regrets not kissing him, but she was so nervous in that moment. Hermione is no expert at snogging. She has only snogged Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory, both in the same year. She had only told Ginny about Cedric. They had kissed when they saw each other near the Muggle restroom at the World Cup campsite. She didn't want Malfoy to mock her, or to lose interest.

The thought runs through her head that she has almost kissed Draco Malfoy. She had hated him just three months before, and now she is longing for his lips to meet hers, just to let off some steam. She is unsure how to feel about this, but she knows that she does not regret it. No, she does not regret it in the slightest.

Her thoughts are broken when Ginny sits across from Hermione and drops her own textbooks on the little table in the corner where she is attempting to do her homework. "Your mind is somewhere else" the redhead points out, smirking.

"I know," Hermione admits weakly. "I can't get it off my mind."

"Oh my god," Ginny grins mischievously at Hermione. "Something else happened with Malfoy."

"It did not," Hermione replies far too quickly.

"Don't even try," Ginny laughs. "Ron told me about earlier. He said something about you holding 'that git's hand', and how Malfoy was up to something when he was standing up for you and that you'd gone mad for even talking to Malfoy."

Hermione shakes her head. "Your brother is probably the most childish human being I've ever met in my life."

"Probably," the redhead agrees, smirking. "But what happened with Malfoy?"

"We were at the library and... I don't know our conversation got weird. He asked me how I felt about him."

"What did you say?" Ginny asks in a demanding tone.

"I said I wasn't sure how I felt about him but that there was something there that wasn't really there before."

"What did he say?"

"He said he felt it too."

"You're completely and utterly absorbed in him, Hermione. Your eyes flicker towards him even when you're not aware of it."

"Yeah," Hermione nods. "I guess you're right."

She is absorbed in him. She is so intrigued by him that it scares her. He is just him, and that itself is enough to be enticing to her.

::

She waits for him all night in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but he does not come. She wonders if he is angry at himself for what had happened earlier, or if he is angry at her for it. She thinks he is probably angry at himself, because Draco Malfoy is always finding a reason to blame himself for something.

::

December comes with snow all across the grounds, and she is taking all the time to be outside that she can. She has always loved the snow, and she feels something about it is soothing. He hasn't spoken to her in two and a half weeks, or really acknowledged her. He hasn't sat by her unless he had too, and even as they gathered ingredients for their love potion he said nothing. It is like he has gone mute.

By the time holidays come around without a word, she wonders if he is even going to Slughorn's party as her date anymore. Draco Malfoy is a coward, that is no secret. She has always known this about him. He has always seemed the type to run when he begins to feel anything, and the fact that it is her doesn't help anything.

She feels like some lovesick adolescent, which she reminds herself she probably is, only she does not love him. She misses him. She misses their arguments, and their little smiles and touches and just having him around. He makes her feel like she can be free again, even with the war that's going on in and outside the walls of the castle.

He is still defending her, though, and she is far more grateful for that than she can express. Perhaps she would thank him when they speak again.

He seems to scurry away from her whenever she walks towards him, and he leaves whenever she enters a room he is in. She goes to the library to do her homework that is due after the holidays, and he leaves once he sees her walk in.

::

Hermione finally gets him alone only six days before Christmas Eve, and their date. She corners him in the hall after dinner, and he looks exasperated.

He groans. "Granger, if you're going to shout at me, I suggest we go somewhere private. I don't want everyone to hear about this-

She grabs his wrist then, dragging him into an empty classroom. She casts a quick Silencing Charm on the door, in case the shouting he is expecting ensues. It does. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she shouts. "You have been ignoring me for weeks. You haven't even looked at me. What did I do that upset you so fucking much?"

"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago-

"What, ran away from what you really feel like a coward? Left me hanging without a word? Have you forgotten everything that happened with us? What can you not kiss a Mudblood?"

He glares at her, but his tone comes out calm. "Don't call yourself that word."

"Why? You hear it all the time? You've been saying it behind my back for the whole time you've been ignoring me, probably. Am I not good enough for Pureblood Draco Malfoy?"

"It's not that" he replies, his voice soft. He closes his eyes and releases a shaky breath. "I haven't got any pride anymore anyways. I haven't been avoiding you because you're not good enough, alright? It's the opposite. I've been afraid of how I feel, but that isn't the main thing."

"Then what is?"

"It's not safe, Granger."

"How is it not safe?" she questions. "What, afraid your little Slytherin cronies will figure out that we have this... thing going on?"

"No!" he exclaims, sighing in exasperation. "Shut the fuck up and listen. If the Dark Lord ever finds out that we are seeing each other, he'd use you against me as a weapon. He might even kill you. He might try to force me to torture you or kill you if this became more than what it already is."

She meets his eyes, and they are filled with fear and guilt, and still that longing that he seemed to often have around her now. She wonders if he always has and she has just failed to take notice.

"You're pure. You're completely untainted and innocent and if you spend time around someone like me... They might think you're a part of a conspiracy if they discover my Dark Mark and I've been seeing you. You're the most kind person I've ever known. We are wrong for each other in so many ways."

"Everything has risks."

"It's not safe."

"Life's not safe," Hermione remarks. "I just... I want to explore this thing we have."

"Okay. I'll see you Christmas Eve then. I'm visiting my mother for a couple of days and then returning back here."

"Okay," she whispers.

He runs his fingers up her bare arm and leans in slightly. "Okay. But I will fuck up, Granger. Like I said, this is no man's land for me, it is risky, and reckless. You're playing with fire."

"I like this fire."

He smirks and licks his lip, chuckling. "Your flirting is improving a little. Still needs more work."

"We can practice."

"I like that idea," he whispers. His lips are so close to her ear that she can practically feel them.

Draco pulls away, staring at her for what could have been hours with an unreadable expression. But he leaves her alone in the empty classroom.

He is everything wrong for her, exactly how he said. She thinks back to his words 'no man's land.' This could end either horrible to the worst extent or positive to the best extent. Perhaps horrible is more likely. But she doesn't care anymore. He is him, and the way he makes her feel is all that matters. He is too alluring for her to resist, and she thinks that this spark is worth the risk, though she knows that it will probably erupt in deadly flames.

::

**Author's Note**

And so the sexual tension begins.


	7. The Malfoys

**Chapter VII - The Malfoys**

The first day after he is gone are long and tedious, and she is unsure of what to do with herself. Harry is out everyday playing Quidditch with Ron. Ginny had decided to return to the Burrow for Christmas, so it is just her, Crookshanks, parchment and her textbooks. It can only get worse from here, it has only been one day.

The common room is more quiet than it has ever been in all her time at Hogwarts. The only sounds are the howling wind, the fire crackling, Crookshanks's purring on her lap, and the scratching of her quill.

She sighs and looks at the clock. One o'clock in the morning. Great.

She wraps her favorite thick, fleece blanket around her as tightly as she can physically manage, and Crookshanks kneads it with his paws. She smiles to herself and strokes her cat's head affectionately. "At least I have you, Crooks."

::

Draco is nervous. Who knows what will be waiting for him when he returns? The train has just pulled in and he is unsure of who will be waiting to pick him up. He dismisses that worry, however, because anyone intimidating to him is a wanted Death Eater.

Indeed, when he steps out, his mother is waiting. Tears well in her eyes before she hugs him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. He knows that in every other moment he would have been embarrassed, but he isn't now. His mother knows how dangerous this is, and she just wants to show him she loves him; that is something he can accept.

"How are you, dear?" asks Narcissa Malfoy. Her eyes scan his features and she frowns. "You look ill. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"That's a stupid question."

"How has school been for you?"

"Fucking spectacular. Wonderful" he rolls his eyes. "Mother, we can talk in the morning. For now, just Apparate us home."

::

The sun is barely over the horizon when Hermione lays down in the deep layer of snow and moves her arms and legs. She hasn't made a snow angel since before she went to Hogwarts, and Merlin knows she could use something simple in her life. She holds some of the snow in her gloved hand, studying how it melts.

She thinks of Draco, and she can't exactly explain why.

But then, it hits her. Even the coldest of things can warm up when given enough warmth.

::

"Rise and shine, Draco!" Narcissa shouts from inside the kitchen.

Draco groans and gazes at his wall, wrapping his pillow around his head so it covers his ears. He looks to the clock and sees that it is already noon, but he doesn't care. He is exhausted, and it is a relief to be at home with his mother. He has been so worried for her.

"Draco!"

"Five more minutes" he shouts back, irritated. "I'm tired."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy-

"I'm coming" he yells in reply, pulling himself up out of bed.

He looks around his room for a moment, studying the place he once thought of as home He has no home now. Not really. He hears his mother call his name again. "Oh for the love of Salazar" he hisses.

Narcissa sends a smile his way when he sits down across from her at the table. He

shudders as he looks around at the many seats around it. So many people have sat here that he does not want to think about. Greyback, Nott Sr., Voldemort, both of the LeStranges, Wormtail, Snape... his father. His mother seems to be thinking around the same lines, because she, too, is eyeing the many seats with disgust.

"Have they been here?" he mutters, glaring at each and every chair. "Have they been here since he left?"

His mother studies him sadly and nods a single nod. "I've been doing everything to - to keep Bella away, to keep the Dark Lord away, to keep all of them away."

"I'm assuming it's not working?" Draco arches an eyebrow. She shakes her head. "Figured as much. None of them really care about each other's opinions or each other's needs and wants and circumstances."

"Your mission..." Narcissa Malfoy winces. "Is it succeeding?"

"No."

"You're trying to make it work, though, aren't you? You were thrilled when you found out you had it, after all."

"I don't want it to work," he replies through clenched teeth. "I don't want innocent people to die and I-

"They'll kill you!" she snaps. "You can't let that happen-

"Can't I? I don't give a shit whether Muggleborns get killed or whether Voldemort succeeds at his sociopathic little goals."

"So you don't care if you're killed?" she raises her eyebrows. "You don't care whether you live or die, just so that Dumbledore and his precious Mudbloods can live? Something's off with you. I'll be the first to admit I'm not fond of the Dark Lord's nonsense but at the beginning a term you said you didn't give a rat's ass if Potter, Dumbledore or any of his Mudbloods lived."

"Maybe I have changed, alright?" he mumbles. "Or maybe I just realized what was there all along."

"Is there any particular reason?"

Granger, he answers internally. Definitely Granger.

A strange warmth goes through him when he thinks her name. His thoughts confirm what he already knows; she has been right. He is not evil.

"I don't want you in any form of danger," Narcissa Malfoy whispers. "None. I can't let anything happen to you. What would I do? I couldn't be stuck with Lu- your father."

"You hate him more than before," Draco points out, narrowing his eyes. "You always hated him, but you can't say his name now. Why?"

"The Dark Lord passed a message through me when I visited him in Azkaban," she replies coolly, glaring at the table. There is a quivering rage in her voice. "He told me to tell Lucius of the honor bestowed on you and what would happen if you failed."

"Bet that went well," Draco drawls sarcastically. His mother snorts, a small smile gracing her features in reply to the comment. "What did he say now?"

"I'm not sure you want to hear it."

"I'm sure it's nothing that he hasn't told me before. Couldn't get much worse than using an Unforgivable and sending me into our manor's dungeons, right? Besides, he's said so much that I don't really give a shit about what he has to say anymore."

"He told me I was a fool to be reluctant and that I hope I perished along with you," she hisses bitterly. "He said that he won't be surprise when you fail and that he's glad-

"It's not necessary to finish that sentence," Draco cringes. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. All of the stupid Blood Supremacist families tell their children shit like that. Theo's father, for example..."

"Your father was a good man, once," sighs Narcissa. "When I first met him he hated Blood Supremacy. I don't recall him using the word 'Mudblood' once in Hogwarts. He said he hated the way his parents told him he was worthless and beat him. I felt sorry for the bastard. I was the same way, after all, the house of Black was not an easy place to survive,

"But somewhere along the way, he went bitter. I think it was after a Muggleborn killed his brother."

"He had a brother?"

"Yes. Nice kid. A couple years younger. It was all in our fifth year when that happened. We'd been together for a year. Then he just changed, I suppose. But I never did. I never believed a word of the rubbish. I simply say what I need to so the Dark Lord doesn't get offended, or to defend you. I don't actually want them dead. But you know that."

"Why did you stay with him?" Draco questions. "Why? It would've been easier for everyone if-

"Don't reprimand me, Draco. I had no other choice-

"What'd he do when he knocked you up?"

"He didn't want the child. He started sleeping around in seventh year, and it was at the end when he found out," she shudders. "He beat me when he knew. I just said I fell down the stairs when people asked. No one seemed to buy it. I wasn't clumsy enough. I was a Keeper on the Quidditch team, after all."

"So why did you stay? This all could've been avoided so much easier!" he is shouting now, but more at his father than his mother. "If you hadn't stayed with him our lives-

"Draco Malfoy," she snaps, her tone cold and venomous. "I know you like to blame me for all the shit that goes on in this house, but in the end, all I have done is protect you from your father. I love you. But you push away anyone who cares about you at all."

"Well the last time someone told me they cared they turned out to be a psychotic Death Eater. Who was that? Oh yeah, my father."

"But I'm not-

"But what if you go bad?" he swallows, keeping tears back only just. "What if you change the way he did?"

She pecks her son on the cheek before raising a hand to his cheeks. His mother has always been affectionate with him in this way, and normally he would swat him away, but the desperation in her eyes is not something he can ignore. He loves his mother. Her and Theo are the only people he has ever loved. "I won't."

He pulls away then, blushing awkwardly. "Erh, thanks, mother."

::

"Oi, Granger," a male voice calls after her once she has returned from the empty library.

She is unsure of who would be talking to her now that Malfoy is gone for a few days, and the voice does not seem to belong to Harry. She turns around to see a tall, tan Slytherin with brown hair and vibrant blue eyes. "Erh - hello?"

The boy reaches out his hand to shake hers, and she accepts after a moment's hesitation. "Theodore Nott. Believe I share some classes with you, but quite sure I've never introduced myself."

"I haven't really noticed you," she admits, smiling sheepishly. "You're Draco's friend?"

Theo raises his eyebrows, smirking. "Ah, Draco's told you stories? Sure they're all the fondest... or not. I irritate the shit out of him half the time, not to say it isn't mutual; he's always been a prat. I'll have you know Draco has told me stories 'bout you as well."

"Oh," she blushes, pursing her lips and trying to think of what to say. "Well that's... nice, I guess? Well, depending on what he's been saying."

"Ah, it's usually all quite nice. He does call you a pompous know-it-all a lot," he shrugs. Hermione glares at him. "But he doesn't exactly mean it, see. Draco has to say something negative about you. He doesn't want to admit he fancies you."

Her face is red now, and she covers her cheeks with her hands. "I-I don't know if that's the case, Nott, but I..."

"I heard you two just about snogged a while ago and-

SMACK.

Hermione smirks at Theo triumphantly. She has just hit him over the shoulder with a textbook. Not that he hadn't deserved it, the nosy git. She expects him to hex her, but instead he just snorts.

"So you are just as pleasant as Draco described," he says impassively, as though it is casual that she had just hit him for no reason at all. "The last time I checked, he was avoiding you, but it's 'cause he's scared, really. He's Draco. Couldn't handle feelings for the life of him."

Hermione looks down at the stone floor of the corridor and nibbles at her lip. "Yeah, I know. He's a right git when he wants to be, and Godric knows how many times I've fought with him."

"Well, we'll never get to change that he's a prat," Theo shrugs, smirking at the ceiling. "But we can at least try to deal with it, I reckon."

"Are you going to keep me here all day, or are you going to get to the point?" Hermione inquires bluntly.

"I planned on telling you something. Just... please stop speaking with him if you're going to give up on him. He's a lot to handle and I just don't know how he'd cope if he let you in and then you shut him out."

She arches an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't he be able to cope with losing me?"

"Well, this is the first time he's really fancied someone, I reckon. The rest of the time he's just been off shagging girls in broom closets and-

Hermione scrunches her face up as though she has tasted something bitter. "I didn't need to know that, Nott."

"He really cares about you," he finishes, ignoring her.

"I care about him, too," Hermione's lips part. "He actually told you that?"

"No, but it's easy to know with Draco. That's why he argues with you so much. Usually, he just ignores everyone and doesn't even bother with someone after they have an argument. The only people he's stuck with are me and his mother; he's even said that he only cares about us before. He told me last year when he was drunk."

Hermione makes a pouting face. "Why can't he just say what he means?"

"Same answer to everything you've asked; he's Draco. That's just who he is, I guess. You'll have to get him drunk if you want to hear how he feels but otherwise, just read the signs."

"So, that's it?"

"I just wanted to tell you to stick with him, that's all."

"We're not even together. Don't get your hopes up too high. He's cold towards me half the time, and he always wears this hard mask... He makes it hard for me to like him."

Theo nods, thinking. "Just some words of advice, Granger. Even the hardest and coldest of hearts can be fixed."

"You want me to fix Draco Malfoy?"

"Well, if I were to say so myself, he wants you to fix him," Theo just gives her a mysterious sort of smirk. "Well, I'll see you 'round, Granger. Don't tell Draco I talked to you, by the way. He'd hex my dick off."

"Pleasant," she snorts.

He turns to leave, but she grabs his arm to stop him. She has to say it. "I heard about," she gulps. "I heard about what happened that night with... suicide attempt. I just wanted to say that Draco was devastated and I hope you're okay."

"Gryffindors," he nods, narrowing his eyes. "Always the same."

He leaves then, and she thinks the comment might have thrown him off, perhaps even irked him. But he was right. Hermione Granger is Gryffindor to the core, and any Gryffindor would say something like that, regardless if the other person wanted to hear it.

::

It is near two o'clock, and Draco is restless. His mother had fallen asleep on the couch about an hour ago after a long discussion over what's going to happen to him, and what the consequences will be if his father escapes from Azkaban. Looking at her, he sees the women he used to know before the Dark Lord returned; she looks almost at peace, almost happy. It kills him to see her this way now, because he knows it won't ever come back.

"Cissy?" he hears a voice hiss from the fireplace. "Cissy, Drakey Poo is here isn't he? I've heard he's doing ever so well on his mission."

He is so startled he knocks over one of the many fancy porcelain vases.

She cackles.

His mother stirs and gestures towards the bedroom for Draco, nodding fervently and mouthing 'go'. "Draco's staying at school this holiday."

"Don't lie, to me, Cissy."

He crawls as quietly as he can manage into his room, even staying silent when he accidentally places his hand on the shards, and locks the door, just for measure. He can't discern the voices, but he can tell that the two women are quarrelling.

"Shit," he utters. His mother's in danger, and what can he do; nothing. The thing he has always done. "Shit, shit, shit."

He stands on the desk, fumbling with the lock on his window. He has to leave the home he has been deprived of once more. But is it really even home anymore? Is home the place he has been tortured countless times at least once in every room? Is home the place his mad father had beaten him all these years? Is home the place he has branded as a Death Eater?

No, he tells himself firmly. No, it isn't.

It is only then when he can open the window, but the blood oozing out from his hand is making it difficult; he begins throwing his trunk first and casting a Cushioning Charm for the long fall from the third story and jumping out onto the cushioned area himself. He runs as fast as he can towards the street and catches the Knight Bus.

"You're young Malfoy, aren't you?" the rather pimply conductor asks. Draco glares at him and gives no reply. "Where do ya need to go?"

"The Leaky Cauldron."

"Fourteen sickles, please" the pimply conductor demands. Draco reaches into his trunk wordlessly and hands them to the man, stepping in and laying down on one of the small brass beds.

"Hey Ern, remember the time we had 'Arry Potter on the bus going to the Leaky Cauldron?" the man asks suddenly.

Draco groans. Fan-fucking-tastic.

::

Draco arrives at the Leaky Cauldron within an hour of getting on the bus, to his relief. He doesn't want to have to bear much longer on that ridiculous thing. He grabs his trunk and hauls it inside, shaking off the snow when he finally enters the warm and cozy building.

"Ah! Mr. Malfoy!" Tom greets, smiling that creepy toothless grin Draco has always disliked. "How are you?"

"Well, I'd love to talk, Tom," Draco says politely. "But perhaps we could do it sometime when it isn't three o'clock in the morning. I expect you have a room open?"

Tom nods. "Number seven."

Draco is handed a rusty old key, and he is relieved when he finally enters his room. He jumps straight into bed, expecting his mind to listen to his body and fall asleep, but it doesn't. It doesn't at all. He can't get his mind off his mother, and he can't help but wonder if she's okay.

He pulls out the shard of porcelain from his hand, finally. Ironically, it has his father's name on it. His father hurt him. His father was the one that hurt him his whole life. Draco chuckles without a trace of humor. The cut in his hand is too metaphorical for him to heal it.

His thoughts go back to the manor, and he wishes it was him there being tortured rather than his mother. His mother; the only person that has ever stuck by him through everything, despite the shit going on in her life. And now he was causing her harm.

"You coward," he mutters to himself before he drifts off to face his nightmares.

::

He doesn't even remember falling asleep, but when he looks to the clock on his nightstand, it is half past eleven o'clock in the morning, almost noon. He groans. He has ten minutes to get ready before he can leave to catch his train.

He grumbles, fumbling out of the Leaky Cauldron and heading to King's Cross. But for some reason, his mind doesn't instinctively think of returning to Hogwarts, it thinks of returning to Granger.

::

Hermione is walking back outside from her dinner. The sun is setting, but it is not visible through the blizzard. She takes a seat on one of the many snowy hills on Hogwarts grounds, looking out into the sky. She flinches when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She looks behind her and sees Malfoy smirking.

She can't look at him without thinking of the inevitable snog ahead in their future, and it gives her a nervous feeling in her stomach that anytime she speaks with him it could be the moment.

He sits beside her, and he seems much more relaxed than she is. She flinches when he lays his gloved hand over her own . She flinches again. "Didn't mean to startle you, Granger."

"Sure you didn't. Your intentions are always pure and saint-like," she says coolly. "I thought you weren't back until Christmas Eve."

"Aren't you ecstatic that I'm back at Hogwarts a day early?" he feigns disappointment. "Shame."

She frowns when she sees a peak of a deep red mark through a small hole in his glove, and she removes it, holding his fingers up with her own so she can glimpse the wound. "Do you want me to heal this?"

"No," he replies.

He doesn't give her any explanation for why he doesn't want it healed, but Hermione knows Draco wouldn't listen to her at all if she warned him of infection or told him it wouldn't sting anymore... Draco is just Draco that way.

She meets those light grey eyes again. It is only then when she sees how lifeless and glazed over they are, and how there are large bags of a darker grey under his eyes. He looks almost as pale as the snow, which is usual, but there is something sickly about this pallid complexion. It looks more unhealthy rather than just pale. "You look like shit," she blurts out before she can think of any better way of phrasing.

He glares at her. "Gee, thanks, Granger. You sure know how to boost my ego."

"No, I mean... you look sick. You look tired, and more tired than usual, I might add," she pauses to study him for a moment. "What happened that made you come back here, Draco?"

"My mother. I didn't want her to be in danger because of me."

"That's... noble of you," she offers in response. "It was brave of you to do that. Something could happen if the Death Eater's find out but you chose your mother's safety over your own."

"I don't really care about saving my own neck," his tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek so he doesn't say anymore. He can't spill out his feelings to Granger. It comes anyways. "Better if I didn't, really. For everyone."

"Not for me," she says in a soft, affectionate and shaky sort of tone. She curses herself for letting those words slip out. He looks at her as if he couldn't have heard her right, so she summons some of her Gryffindor courage to repeat the words. "Not for me it wouldn't."

His lips part, and his eyes skim over all her features. "Why do you care about me, Granger? We loathed each other for five years and then you come parading in trying to help me-

"I saw some good in you," she responds. "I've never seen any good in you until I saw how decent you could be."

"I'm better than decent, thank you very much," he boasts, smirking. He leans in towards her, his breath caressing her cheeks. The contrast between the heat of his breath and the cold of the storm.

She knows she is too close. She can see the small navy blue ring on the outside of his eye and around his pupil. She stands up almost immediately, though she would like nothing better but to stay. "I'll-I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy. I'm glad you're okay."

He stands, bewildered. Witches.

::

Draco slams his fist into the doors of that damned cabinet. No matter what he does, it won't bloody work. He is about ready to call it quits and let the Dark Lord kill him. He is most of the time these days, anyways.

It is against every moral fiber in his body to try to fix that thing to do such evil. Vanishing Cabinets can do good thing; save lives from Death Eaters like him, for one. To be using them the other way seems... wrong.

He laughs at himself, Hermione Granger is definitely rubbing off on him.

::

Draco is half-awake now. It is just solid proof of how bad his life is; he is drinking Ogden's Firewhiskey sitting at the edge of his bed on the night before Christmas Eve. He would have jumped with surprise when he heard Theo enter, but his reflexes are numbed by the alcohol coursing through his system.

"Why are you drinking?" Theo questions. "And more importantly, why are you back?"

"The two are both the same question, Theo," he mumbles, shrugging. "One triggered the other. Why was I born with a psychotic aunt?"

"Yeah, both of us are related to a bunch of psychos," Theo nods, sitting on his own bed across from Draco. Draco takes another swig of firewhiskey, and Theo reaches for the bottle after.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"You've had enough," says Theo firmly. "You probably had enough and hour ago but I wasn't in here an hour ago."

"Don't you know it's the only bloody way I can cope? You're a hypocrite, you drink just as much as I do."

"Yeah but no one gives a shit about me," Theo flashes his friend a small smile. "You have more than one person who cares about you now."

"Who the bloody hell are you talking about?" Draco raises his eyebrows. "I'm just the fuck up to society and my father's clone according to everyone around me."

"Not to Granger," replies Theo, meeting his friend's eyes. "Granger cares for you. I spoke to her yesterday-

"You did what?" Draco groans and shakes his head. "I'll bloody have your head, Theo, you wait. What did you say about me?"

"That's between me and Granger," Theo remarks, smirking. Draco scowls at him. "I suggest you ask Granger yourself, or are you still running from her?"

"She ran from me today," counters Draco. "Can't say I blame her. I'm a fuckup."

"And that's why we're friends," Theo pats Draco on the back rather fondly. "We're probably the biggest fuckups in the century."

Draco laughs. "Probably."

Theo studies him for a few moments before he speaks. "Talk to Granger. Don't run to booze."

"What so you can drink them?"

"Partially," Theo chuckles. "But Granger cares... just give her a chance."

::

He walks to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and he is quite content when he finds her there, waiting. He sits down so close to her that she can feel the body heat radiating from his against her bare arm. She furrows her brow when she catches a smell she doesn't recognize at first and then, "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"'Course you would point that out, Granger," Draco snorts. "Hanging around me, the big bad Death Eater and you're offended because I've been drinking when I've got a Dark Mark on my arm."

"Yes, well the Dark Mark wasn't your choice," Hermione frowns. "The drinking was. It's stupid and reckless and-

"Yeah, save your lecture," Draco dismisses. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

She meets his gaze. "About what?"

"Theo told me he talked to you."

Hermione nods. "Yes."

"And you said you cared," he murmurs. His eyes roam up and down her features. He had certainly right telling Pansy that Hermione Granger isn't ugly in the slightest. Her features are small, her skin a golden sort of color, her lips a coral pink, and her eyes a brown that reminds him of autumn.

"I did," she whispers back, nodding again, and smiling at him.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care about me, Granger?" Draco questions. The pain in his eyes is quite apparent to her. "Why the bloody hell would you want someone like me in your life? I'm bad news."

She frowns when she looks at his hand again. "You never did tell me about-

"You're changing the subject. Answer my question, and then I'll answer yours."

She can tell he won't drop this, so she sighs. "You're just.. you. There's something about you. It feels like you're a magnet. I feel so drawn to you."

"That doesn't explain why you care. Attraction is quite common as an adolescent, Granger. Surely you've noticed when Finnigan started shagging Parkinson?"

"There's something... well, quite lovely about you. You're arrogant, stubborn-

"Point taken."

"Cold, sarcastic, brooding, and about every other negative thing, but there is just so much good in you when you get down to the base."

He clenches his jaw. "Don't have faith in me, Granger."

"Why?" she repeats.

"Because I'll only let you down."

"That's not true," she murmurs. "Yeah, we fight half the time and you're a right ass-

"You're a haughty-

"But we care about each other, I think. I'm speaking for you but..."

"I do care about you, Granger," he confesses, because pride is meaningless at this point in his life. He has no reason to be proud. "Just remember that, because I probably won't say it again.

"You won't let me down," she whispers. She hesitates before she rests her head on his shoulder. He doesn't do anything for a few moments, just stares into space. But he surprises her then by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

"I promise, Draco, you won't."

His affections for Granger are reaching dangerous levels now. "I should probably go," he mumbles, getting up and offering her his hand and helping her up as well. "I'll see you tomorrow, Granger. The party starts at eight, right? I'll get you from your common room at seven."

"O-Okay," Hermione replies. "Goodnight, Draco."

His lips turn upwards at the corners. "Goodnight, Granger."

::

**Author's Note**

I always thought the Malfoy family was more than meets the eye, so I thought I would give a back story. Not much Dramione in this chapter as it's more of a filler but I found it important to include some of Draco's past and add some explanation to why he is the way he is.


	8. Eden

**Chapter VIII - Eden**

The headlines are horrendous. 'Twenty Muggles Killed Outside of London', 'Muggleborn Found Dead In Diagon Alley, Believed Death Eater Involvement'. She cries all afternoon. What if her parents are next?

But she stops crying after a while. She has to suck it up, be strong. So many have already lost more loved ones than she has, and so many have lost themselves. She feels a strong pain for Harry, who has lost everyone by now. She thinks of Draco, who will never have a family again because of his father. And suddenly, she is guilty or even being worried.

She would like to tell herself she isn't, because it wouldn't be right for her to be worried, in her opinion, but deep down, she knows she is kidding herself.

::

He looks as alluring his ever in the white button up shirt he so often wears. It is unbuttoned at the top, exposing his collarbones, and she can't help but scan her eyes over his body.

"H-Hi," she stutters.

"Hello, Granger," he says, smirking. "Let's get to the party. I know a shortcut."

::

She isn't sure how she got in this position at all, his arms above her rested against the wall and pinning her up against it in an empty corridor, and she wonders if it was his intention to ever go to the party at all. He is smirking that damned smirk at her. He had assured her that passing through this corridor was simply a shortcut to Slughorn's office where they wouldn't attract attention, but the moment he had gotten her here he had looked at her with that predatory longing in his stormy grey eyes.

"I really don't know if I should-

"Relax, Granger," he breathes so quietly that she wouldn't have ever been able to hear it if he wasn't so close to her now. His breath is caressing her cheeks in a delightful way, and she feels a need she has never felt before. He is too handsome for his own good, really. "Relax."

She furrows her brow at him. "Did you even want to take me to that party?"

"No," he replies simply. "I just wanted an excuse to see you for a while."

Hermione huffs a laugh. "You devious prat."

"I didn't want us to be interrupted this time," he murmurs.

His lips press to the hollow of her ear and trail down her neck, and her body releases an unwanted whimper. This is not helping her argument at all. "I-I want to see you and I-I'm glad you're enthusiastic but I want-

"Shut up," he growls, trailing his lips to her jawbone now. Her stomach flutters when his lips press against the corner of her mouth, and she is nervous and anticipating and every other emotion put together. He is so damn tempting. "Can I kiss you, Granger?"

"Y-yes," she nods, and her eyes widen when his lips press to her.

They fit perfectly with her own, and she feels more in sync with him more than she had ever imagined possible. He is doing brain-damning things to her mouth and she feels more aroused by a simple snog than she had ever thought possible. After the shock of it passes, she kisses him back with equal fervor and arches her back into him.

He doesn't feel close enough. Her fingers are trailing all over his body, tracing his collarbones and exploring the dips and crevices of his muscles. She hums with content when he kisses down her neck again. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you, Granger," he mumbles against her skin. She whimpers at the feeling of his hot breath against her neck. "Too long for my own good."

"Mhm," she manages. She is far too absorbed in him to think of anything more clever to say back, and she thinks her intelligence is affected far too much when he is kissing her like this.

His lips press against hers again and in this moment she is too absorbed in him to care about anything else. For all she could care, Voldemort himself could walk in and it would not stop her from kissing him. He hears music and hums. "Music from the party."

"The party we're supposed to be at, I might add," Hermione scolds half-heartedly.

He snorts and sucks at a tender spot on her throat until yet another whimper slips through her lips. He pulls his lips away then, smirking at her. "I'm pretty sure you're enjoying yourself just as much as I am."

The music sounds again, and Hermione likes the flow of it. She wishes she could be at Slughorn's stupid party just so she can dance with him. "We could be dancing right now if we were there."

"It might come as a shock to you, Granger, but I'm not much of a dancer."

Her lips twitch. "Dance with me, Draco."

"But we can hardly even hear the music up here-

"Yes but-

"It's absolutely ridiculous!"

"Wrap your arms around my waist," she directs, grabbing his hands to guide them to her hips. "I wrap mine around your neck... only I'm not sure I can reach so I might just have to put them on your chest. You're about as tall as the Gryffindor tower-

"I'm not too tall, you're just small."

She purses her lips. "Yes, but that's beside the point. You don't have to argue with me about everything."

"I do," he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers again. She pulls away and he scowls at her. "Are you really this set on doing something as stupid as dancing? I can't even hear any music anymore."

"Yes," she whispers burrowing her head in his chest. "Just dance with me."

He is much better at this than she had expected, he had made it sound as though he couldn't dance at all but he is graceful as ever. She wonders if it has something to do with his Quidditch before she remembers how uncoordinated Krum was. She is so intoxicated by the scent of him and the warmth radiating from his body that she keeps trotting on his feet.

"Well aren't you just the model of grace?" he teases, pressing his lips to her dimple.

"Hey! I'm-

"It's okay, Granger," he chuckles. "You can't learn everything from those books of yours."

He kisses her innocently, but he is still attempting to move in time, though there is no music playing anymore. The kiss is soft and sweet, and has no other intentions but just to feel their lips together.

He thinks he feels much more for Hermione Granger than he had ever intended, because he has forgotten how dangerous, wrong and reckless doing this is. But he doesn't care, because in that moment, he forgets that he is a Death Eater. He forgets that he is Draco Malfoy, and that she is Hermione Granger. He forgets that he is tainted, and she is pure. He forgets that he is the dark, and she is the light.

He forgets that he is anything but there with her.

About an hour of kisses later, Draco pulls away from her, releasing her from the wall and looking at her softer than he ever had before. "Not bad, Granger."

"Is that your version of a compliment?" she arches an eyebrow, smiling at him. "Well not bad to you, either."

He looks to her neck, and his eyes widen. Her neck, along with her shoulder, are covered in mouth shaped bruises. He almost feels bad, but her reactions were far too arousing for him to feel anything but proud.

"I think I may have annihilated your neck, Granger," he says somewhat smugly."I know a few charms if you need them."

"No, it's fine," Hermione shrugs. "I can just wear my hair down or something."

"Oh yes, your hair," Draco smirks. "I've forgotten that your hair will cover anything. For all I know there could be a dragon in there."

"There is, and it will attack you if you don't stop talking about my appearance. You sure didn't seem to mind it when you were snogging me just two minutes ago."

"I'm kidding, Granger," he rolls his eyes. "No need to get all defensive about it."

Hermione feels that her sadness returns as quickly as it had gone away, and she is unsure why. Maybe it's because he isn't kissing her like that anymore, so she has been forced back into the real world rather just in the place she was with him. She is defensive, and irritated, and worried.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, as though he can read her mind.

"I don't want to whine about it it's stupid-

"I doubt it's stupid," he sighs. "If you want stupid, you should listen to Parkinson. She's constantly whining about how her bloody hair gets frizzy when it's hot out."

She winces. "Muggles were killed. A lot of them. Not that you would care..."

His lips twitch. "Granger, if my views on Muggles hadn't changed I wouldn't have been snogging you just now. I am... indifferent towards them."

She studies him and meets his eyes after a while. "I don't want my parents to be next, Draco. I'm scared."

"And that's stupid to you?" he raises his eyebrows. "Hermione, you have no reason to be ashamed of that."

"You called me Hermione," she murmurs.

He snorts. "What's the big deal?"

"You've never called me by my first name before... I'm sorry, I probably sound stupid but I-I do like it."

He opens his mouth to say something before furrowing his brow and shaking his head in dismissal of his thought. "Goodnight, Granger. It's getting late."

"G-Goodnight, Draco."

::

Ginny snickers when she sees Hermione's neck the following morning. "Well, I was wondering where you were during Slughorn's party."

"You came back?"

Ginny nods. "Yeah, I came back. I wanted to be at Hogwarts for the Christmas feast. Besides, I promised Dean I would accompany him to Slughorn's party."

"How did that go?" Hermione asks, trying to draw the topic off of the lovebites covering her neck.

"Can't say it went as well as your night did. Is the rumor true about his dick-

"Ginny, we didn't have sex! We just... kissed a little. That's all. It was," she pauses, trying to think of a word, but she decides on the one that is both the most simple, and the one that suits her situation most. "Nice."

"A little, sure," Ginny remarks sarcastically. "Well Dean went off with Hannah Abbot halfway through the party. I dumped him."

"I'm sorry," Hermione says sympathetically.

Ginny laughs. "I'm not upset. I'm glad I'm free of him, actually. I'm beginning to wonder if I should go for Harry."

"Harry likes you," Hermione grins. "He told me ages ago. Well, enough with boys, I should probably study."

"And there's the Hermione I know."

::

Theo isn't back in his dormitory until in the morning. Draco groans. He could have slept until noon, and it is only eight in the morning when he looks at his alarm clock. "You must have had a good night, then," Draco comments groggily.

"I did, actually," Theo replies. Draco can imagine the smirk on Theo's face. "Parvati Patil took me into a broom closet and-

"That's enough, thanks."

"Alright, I'll spare you, only because it's Christmas though."

Draco doesn't make comment on the holiday. It doesn't feel like Christmas. Not really. Things are too broken for it to be Christmas.

"You were off snogging Granger, weren't you?" Theo asks abruptly. "I put the pieces together in my head so don't even lie. What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh, right, I forgot, you're going to pull the classic Draco Malfoy and push her out of your life for a couple of weeks and then go back."

Draco shakes his head and glares at his friend, but he doesn't argue. That is exactly what he's been planning to do.

::

No one celebrates Christmas this year. Not even magic can conjure enough joy and hope for that.

::

He shouldn't have kissed her. He knew it was wrong on every level when he did it, and he knew it was dangerous. He could be killed now if he was found out, and she could be too. He shudders at the thought.

He wants to prove Theo wrong, he wants to go after her again. He wants to feel her lips again, hear the melodic little whimpers she made when he bit at her collarbone. He just wants her in general, and in ways that are not completely appropriate.

But fate is a cruel mistress.

Hermione Granger is completely forbidden. They are on different sides, they are polar opposites. She isn't an Occlumens, and if the Dark Lord ever got ahold of her, he would find out everything. But even the Dark Lord finding out about him and Granger wouldn't be as bad as his father finding out. Merlin only knows what would happen then.

If it was someone else in his situation, he would advise them to just take a risk anyways.

But it isn't someone else, it is him, and it is her, and he decides for honorable reasons that he can't speak with her anymore.

::

Two days pass without her seeing him anywhere. He isn't at meals, and he isn't in Myrtle's bathroom. She wonders if he is bored or if he just has other things on his mind. But she knows he is pushing her away. It doesn't take her much to come to that conclusion.

She doesn't know if she has ever felt so needy, irritated and excited all at the same time. She knows she probably shouldn't miss him, but she does anyways. She knows he will come back, eventually. She knows he will.

::

Hermione always finds a way to corner him. In this occasion, it is on a night patrol of the corridors. He doesn't look at her, and she glares at him for a long minute before getting to the point. "You're avoiding me again."

"I'm always avoiding you," he shrugs. "You have a tendency to try to get into my business, and I don't like it."

"That's rubbish and you know it."

"Really? Is it? I'm the one who's always telling you to shove off."

"Nott warned me about this," Hermione states plainly. "He warned me that you would try to push me away because I care about you and because you're too much of a coward to face your emotions."

"Be careful of using the word coward. A coward would have never done something stupid like snogged you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't seem to think it was stupid when you ditched the party to pull me into a corridor and in your words 'annihilate' my neck."

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"No I do! You shove all the people you can out of your life," she snaps. "It's pathetic! All you do is brood and drink firewhiskey!"

"You don't understand anything. You have it easy, Granger. You're smart, your parents love you, your parents are together and alive, your social life isn't half bad and you're friends with just about everyone in your house."

"Oh, please, the Slytherins worship the great Draco Malfoy," she rolls her eyes. They are still feet away, but they feel much closer than that to her. Maybe it is because of how intensely they are staring at each other.

"So you'd like being worshiped for having a Dark Mark on your arm? Yeah, you can trade then, because I'd pass if I could."

"You can't complain when everyone gives a shit about you, even if it is for negative reasons!"

"Granger, no one gives a shit about me besides my mother and Theo."

"And me," she emphasizes the word. "But you insist on pushing me out of your life, and if you're so certain on it then I'll just leave on my own."

"Are you blind?" he nearly shouts. "I cannot believe that you don't see it! You must not be as intelligent as everyone thinks because it's obvious why I'm avoiding you."

"You are an utter ass."

"No shit! I was the one who told you to stay away from me in the first place but you insisted on sticking your haughty nose all up in my business."

"I'm the haughty one now?!" Hermione retorts. "Bollocks! You're an arrogant bastard! I could bet you anything this is all in the grand scheme of things! You're supposed to get close to the Mudblood for Voldemort so that you can find out all about Harry and all about how stupid Mudbloods are. I'm not as daft as you think, I've put two and two together now, Malfoy, and I hope you're happy with yourself at least! It wasn't my choice that you chose to become evil, after all."

His light grey eyes go so cold they make her shiver. He takes a few steps forward, and he is so close to her he can feel his breath again, and a strange anticipation forms in her navel. She is so angry with him, and she wants to will it away but it doesn't pass. "Alright, Granger," he hisses. "I'm glad you've finally figured out how evil I really am."

He walks off then, leaving her in both disbelief, rage, and a pain in her gut where the pleasant butterflies he gave her used to be.

::

She can't stop looking at him. It doesn't matter to her that he loathes her, or that she loathes him now. He is too beautiful for her to ignore, really.

She thinks of the best simile for him that she has thus far as she studies him at breakfast three days after Christmas. She remembers when her parents took her to church, and she remembers reading something about the Garden of Eden and fruit from the tree that no one was allowed to eat, but people were tempted, anyways.

He is her fruit, and she cannot get enough of him.

::

They glare at each other from across the snowy grounds for minutes before he approaches her. She isn't sure why she hadn't just gone inside, but perhaps she just wants to argue with him, if arguing is all she can get.

He walks, and she thinks his eyes grow colder and colder as he walks closer, and that they are colder than the snow itself. "I know I'm attractive, Granger, but you can stop staring at me now."

"Shut up," Hermione retorts. "I was glaring at you."

"Why?"

"Because you're infuriating, and cruel, and spiteful, and just everything I hate in a person in general. In case you don't remember, I'm furious with you."

"Oh, but the feeling is quite mutual, I believe," he drawls. "You can't possibly think that I like you? You're nothing more than a Mudblood to me."

"Don't you fucking dare bring up my blood again. That's a low blow. You play dirtier than my blood ever has been-

"Then maybe you should play dirty, Granger. Give me your worst. What does goody two shoes Hermione Granger have to say to me?"

"I think that you're a coward."

"You've said that before. It's getting about as mundane as your wit-

"I think that you manipulate people to get what you want, or to humiliate them.

You're charismatic, the same way Voldemort is. You use it the same way, too. You use it for completely selfish reasons. You take pride in the mark on your arm, regardless of what you say. That's why you talk about it so much, so that people know you have it. You crave attention and you get it by putting other people down. But you know what, Malfoy? You'll never hate any Muggleborn as much as you hate yourself."

She leaves him there alone, and he reflects on all she says and fails at convincing himself that it all isn't true.

::

"How are you and Malfoy?" Ginny inquires innocently over their nighttime tea. "Have you guys snogged again?"

"We've had a row. Still having one, actually," Hermione spits bitterly. "I'm so sick of him. He's a complete ass."

"You didn't seem to think that a few days ago," Ginny points out. "This is more of a battle of pride, I think. Just talk to him."

Hermione shakes her head. It is a battle of pride, and she does not intend to lose.

::

New Year's Eve comes quickly, and Draco winces at the thought of a new year. The state of the world will only worsen after this, and he knows it. He also knows his time is almost up, and he loathes it. He is no closer to finishing his mission whatsoever, and he isn't sure if he wants to finish it anymore.

He wants to go see Granger, to speak with her and to wish her well on the new year and perhaps tease her a bit about how she's already finished her homework for half the term. But he can't speak with her. It is beyond forbidden.

He thinks if it were easier, and if she was a Pureblood, he would associate with her anyways. He wouldn't have the inner conflict of right and wrong whenever he speaks with her. It is endangering her life, her well-being, her emotions. It is endangering almost everything, and he is too selfish to care when he is near her.

And the worst part is that Granger is stubborn, and she will not let him push her away. She is constantly seeking him out, no matter how much he tells her to. He knows that she understand how wrong it is, she is just as intelligent as he is, but she doesn't seem to care at all.

He wonders why saintly Hermione Granger wants him. All he knows is that he needs to make it stop, somehow.

But Granger is an enigma, and that's the main reason why he can't get her out of his mind.

::

She slows when they pass each other in the hall, and her heart speeds up slightly. Her arm brushes against his and the electricity she always gets when she's touching him returns, just for a brief moment. She wonders how long this will keep up.

::

He frowns when he hears footsteps behind where he is sitting and watching the New Years fireworks. He is certain that it's Granger before he even looks. He only has so much self control, and even if they were to scream at each other, he might do something reckless; like kiss her again.

"A New Year is a perfect time to change your life, Draco. To write it over, to change the course of the path you're on," she murmurs from behind him. She doesn't sit beside him, and he does not look at her, or even reply. "Whatever you want to change."

She sits next to him, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her head on them. He still doesn't look at her, or say anything. He remains silent.

"I know you don't like yourself much, but I like who you are, Draco," she sighs. "And for some reason, I still have faith in you. You're a good man, regardless if you want to be or not,

"Do what you think feels right for you."

She runs her fingers down his arm before she leaves him in greater confusion than before.

::

He wonders if he will ever be able to change himself. He thinks to her words from the previous night.

'_A New Year is a perfect time to change your life, Draco. To write it over, to change the course of the path you're on.'_

But how can he? His fate has been lingering over him since he was born. He was born the Malfoy heir, he was born to become his father.

_'I like who you are.'_

How could she like who he is? The words stir something in him. He doesn't know whether to be scared for himself or for her.

He is in the middle of two messes, in a constant limbo between them. He only wishes he was in a position where he could choose the one to fix. He has no choice but to choose the wrong one, to choose to kill Dumbledore. If he doesn't, his mother will be the price.

If he didn't care for her, he would still stay around. But he has grown to care for Hermione Granger, and he does not want her to be in danger because of him.

He wishes he was optimistic enough to believe he will change his own fate, or that he will change himself into a good person, but he isn't. He can't set his goals so high.

He can only take it day by day and hope he won't wake up the next morning.

::

He decides to take Granger's advice, to do what feels right for him. He follows her out of the Great Hall after lunch and presses his lips to hers. He kisses her with all the frustration he has with his situation. The kiss is not gentle, but their teeth clash together and it is raw.

He kisses her like he needs to, and deep down, she thinks she needs to, too.

"I know we shouldn't do this," he murmurs once he has stopped kissing her. "But you told me to do what feels right."

Her lips part and then she is kissing him again, and she decides that this Eden has never been so sweet.

::

**Author's Note**

I really do like my metaphor in this, I feel like it fits. I felt forever editing this chapter so I hope you like it. I feel like it's an important chapter so I hope I at least did well with it. Draco's beginning to acknowledge his romantic feelings for Hermione, which will be crucial for character development, as it's sort of a turning point for his blood prejudices and negative traits.


	9. Bloodstains

**Chapter IX - Bloodstains**

It is wrong that she is letting him kiss her after the way he has been behaving, and perhaps it is wrong all together. But as he had said just moments prior, she had told him to do what feels right. She thinks she can take her own advice for once.

After they notice where they are, who they are, how easily they could be caught, and what they are doing, they pull apart from each other. Draco seems to have gone mute, he just licks his lip and stares at her. He nods at her and walks off, slowly and cautiously.

She doesn't know what to expect the next morning when term resumes, but she knows that for some bizarre reason, she doesn't regret kissing him.

She should, but she doesn't.

Not in the slightest.

::

Hermione is nervous when she takes her seat next to him in Transfiguration. He doesn't look up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. She studies him, hesitating for quite some time before she finally manages to think of what she is going to say. "Are we going to talk about it?"

He clenches his jaw, but gives no other signs of having heard what she said.

"Draco, I don't want to play the silent game and I think it's important for us to talk about what happened," she presses. "And what you said... it's how I feel exactly."

"Talk to me after class during our free period," he mutters, still not looking at her. "We can meet at the boathouse again."

She nods, and releases the breath she has been holding in. Some of her nerves are relieved, and she is glad he will at least speak with her this time.

::

He is the first to arrive at their meeting place, leaving him time to think. How could he be doing this? He is risking his life, his mother's life, Granger's life, and many others. He is ashamed of himself. Who he is, what he is doing.

The month prior, he had poisoned a bottle of mead in Slughorn's stores, only hoping that he would do as Rosmerta had suggested and give it to Dumbledore. Surely it hadn't reached its owner, because Dumbledore is still well. Slughorn is in danger now, and perhaps even people in the Slug Club. That repulses him, everything does.

And the headlines...

His kind are killing more and more innocent Muggles as the days pass. They are killing Granger's kind, and it makes him all the more guilty.

But he has done this to himself. He has accepted the mark, and he has made the mess with Granger. There is nothing he can do now but hope it all ends.

He turns around when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and it is her. He doesn't know if he'll ever get used to just how lovely she is. The snowflakes are resting charmingly on her hair, her pinks a dark pink, her skin pale and her lips coral. It takes everything he has left in him not to grab her and kiss her like he had before.

"I believe you wanted to talk to me, Granger," he says slowly, meeting those big chestnut eyes of hers.

"I do," she replies. "I just... I don't know what's going on between us. You haven't even properly explained it."

"Whatever it is can't keep happening. I can assure you that much," he sighs.

"Just yesterday you thought it felt right."

"Because you're screwing with me, Granger!" he groans in frustration and clenches his fist. "I don't know what you've done to me! I come see you this year and all of a sudden Mudbloods aren't scum, I don't want to be a Death Eater and I think I'm going down the wrong path! I don't know how you did it."

"You did all that on your own-

"Not the Mudblood part," he shakes his head. "Definitely not. I realized I was wrong when I saw you on the train. That's why I was staring at you with my 'creepy eyes'"

She smiles weakly. "You don't have creepy eyes. You were just using them to be creepy. I think you have pretty eyes, really."

"I don't think this is relevant to the conversation," he drawls. "Like most normal people, I don't judge my own self worth by what people think of my eyes."

Hermione full out laughs at this, and his mouth curves into a reluctant smile.

"Granger, I came here to end this," he kicks at the snow with his foot awkwardly. "I didn't come here to talk to you, and that's the main reason I have to. I become too good when I'm around you. I can't be good."

"You already are good," she counters firmly. "You already are. I see no reason why we should end this at all."

He grits his teeth now. "Have you seen the headlines this morning, Granger?"

She shakes her head, and she feels somewhat nervous now. He pulls his copy of the Daily Prophet out of his coat pocket and hands it to her. She winces when she reads the headlines.

"I play friendly with these people, in case you've forgotten," he utters darkly. "At anytime, they could kill your parents, your friends, anyone."

"But why does that matter?"

"I'm one of them. You can't keep ignoring that. I've got the same mark on my arm and the same shadow over my name. I am just like them."

"You just said you didn't believe in the prejudices anymore. You're a good person, Draco-

"Would you shut up with all that bullshit?" he shouts. "Would you stop with it? Obviously you can't read. Five Muggles, five people with families, and they're all dead. I have tea with the people who did it. I don't want to hear that I'm a good person, when you know otherwise. You know the darker sides of me, and they aren't a pretty thing. I have a heart of stone, Granger. I always have. I'm not some little project you can change like S.P.E.W. or whatever the hell it was. You're kidding yourself."

"You aren't an entirely good person yet," she murmurs. "But you have so much good in you. We can fix it."

"I'm not some stupid thing you can fix! I'm not like house elf rights or all that other damn shit that you try to fix to make the world a better place! I am a lost cause, Granger. Nothing more."

"You know, Draco, I think you're afraid of how you feel more than you're afraid of the consequences," she says softly. "You don't have to worry so much. Remember what I told you; do what feels right."

"Yeah you know what else felt right?" he raises his eyebrows. "Taking a damn Dark Mark for my fuckup of a father. A lot of things felt right in my life, but none of them were. You can't possibly expect me to trust my emotions after that."

"But I-

"Granger, I really don't give a shit what you have to say next."

"Well you're lovely," she retorts.

"Yeah, well I warned you that I'm not some damned saint that acts on morals and emotions and has a pristine soul. I sold my soul the moment I took the mark. I am not someone you want to mess with."

"I have put up with a lot of your shit," she snaps. "But I will not let you mess with my emotions like it's a game. Yesterday you said this whole thing felt right and now you're going back on your word."

He laughs mirthlessly. "I've warned you so many times, Granger. And now you're playing victim?"

"What do you think you do all day? You wallow in self pity because you're a Death Eater when you know you made the decision yourself."

"You think I chose this myself? You think I chose to ruin my life?" he hisses, venom in his every word. "Do you think I thrive on watching innocent people die?"

"Well, that's what you just said. That you chose this. You made your own bed, Malfoy, and I don't pity you anymore. You push away anyone who wants to help you out of your situations."

"No, I push you away. Don't generalize things and tell yourself it's anyone but you. It's because of who you are; Potter's golden girl, savior of house elves and hopeless cases like Neville Longbottom. Well, Granger, you can't redeem a Death Eater, or even a half-assed one like me."

"Maybe I just like helping people, did you ever think of that?"

"No, you like coming across as a perfect heroine. The reason is beyond me, but you do. Potter's the hero, Granger. Accept it and stop trying so damn hard."

"You are such a-

"Such a what?" he inquires. He can tell she is on the verge of snapping, and now all that is let is to push her over the edge. "Someone who sees things as they are? Well excuse me if I don't want to help you on your quest of nobility. You have ulterior motives."

"You are absolutely ridiculous! You think I snogged you to try and keep my reputation?" she shouts, absolutely appalled. "You know, I'm not like you."

"Exactly. You aren't. You reached your own conclusion," he licks his lip. "You, Hermione St. Granger are beyond soulless Draco Malfoy."

"Well you chose to come across to me as heartless-

"Because I am. That's what I wanted you to figure out, Granger. You can't start hanging around someone like me."

She glares at him, but her eyes soften after a moment. "You don't have to be guilty for what other people have done, Draco. That mark doesn't mean that you're a murderer."

She walks away from him then, and he just cries.

_Doesn't it, though? _

::

He has decided avoiding her is a pointless effort, because she will always hunt him down anyways. He will never understand the girl's need to associate with him, but he cannot say he doesn't like it. He just likes her in general.

He can't ignore her anymore, and he has only been trying to ignore her for a couple of hours. The Potions project is testing his restraint, particularly because they're brewing Amortentia, and because they are alone in Slughorn's office. Hermione had insisted on spending time outside of class on it. He smells her coming off the fumes of it. The lavender scent she always carries and it is driving him mad.

"Will you pass me he lacewing flies?" she asks, reaching her hand out but staring with concentration at the potion in front of her.

He clenches his jaw and does so. Once she adds them in, the scent is even more intense. He is staring at her with such an intensity that he thinks he might burn holes in her skin. She doesn't notice, though.

"This doesn't feel right," she furrows her brow and looks down at the list of ingredients.

"No, it doesn't," he murmurs before he can stop himself.

Her lips part. "I... What do you mean?"

"The potion," he replies a little too quickly. "The potion doesn't feel like it's as good as we can make it."

"Well I'm trying, Malfoy," she sighs. "You're welcome to take over if I'm not up to par for your standards."

"You're perfectly up to my standards," he replies, smirking.

She blushes and shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

He inhales that damn lavender scent. She is right there, and she is so tempting... a little too tempting. Everything about her is testing his self restraint, and the smell of her is in the air. He can't help but wonder what she smells in the fumes, but she looks as if she is trying her self restraint.

But she is feeling the same thing, and the pearl sheen fumes are testing her as well. She can smell his cologne, and the natural trace of peppermint scent he always carries. She scans her eyes over him. He looks bored, and as though he is too superior to be doing something like this, as usual. He always wears a look like that.

It takes him a moment to actually notice her eyes on him, but when he notices, he does not glare at her or make a snarky remark. His grey eyes simply meet her brown ones, and he clenches and unclenches his jaw like he always does when he is considering something. She can feel the tension between the two of them in the air, and it is so thick she could cut it with a knife.

The moment is broken, however, when a rather drunken Slughorn stumbles into his office, whistling. Their eyes break apart as if it is reflex, and Slughorn looks at their potion and grins. "Not bad."

"Well nothing Granger does is anything short of perfect," Draco smirks. "She's obsessive compulsive, I swear-

"I am not," she snaps, glaring at him.

He huffs a laugh. "Well, you are. Everything you do can't be anything less than Outstanding and if it ever was you would probably throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower."

"My life would be much better if you threw yourself off the astronomy tower," she hisses warningly. "I might do it myself if you don't shut up."

Slughorn seems to break out of his daze, and he shakes his head to snap himself out of it. "Oh yeah, Dumbledore wants to see you, Draco."

Draco replies with a stiff, curt nod before gathering his things in his school bag and walking out of the room in such a quick stride that even Granger wouldn't be able to keep up with him.

::

He enters Dumbledore's office with the same blank expression he usually put on around people, and he ignores the kind smile Dumbledore aims at him. That naive old man wouldn't be smiling if he knew just what is going to be done to him. An unpleasant voice in the back of Draco's head reminds him that he doesn't really want to go through with the plan to kill him at all.

"Sit down, Draco," the Headmaster invites, gesturing to the chair opposite his own. "Would you like a Lemon Drop?"

Draco gives no reply, he simply stays where he is and studies the elder man. He wants to get this over with, he wants to be able to go back to his common room and hide himself from everyone. Seeing the kind nature of the man he is being forced to kill never helps with his doubts, which are almost always there anyways.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind," Dumbledore says sympathetically. "You can still tell me what's going on, you know."

Draco licks his lip, restraining himself from saying anything. Would he be free if he simply told the man everything?

Dumbledore sighs and looks at him with pity before pressing on. "I've been informed that you've been spending a lot of time with Miss Granger."

Draco's grey eyes snap upwards from the ground at meet the kind blue ones that are studying him. "Who told you that?"

"I have my informants in this castle," the elder man shrugs and grins slyly. "Though I must say, it seems as though your views on Muggleborns have... shifted."

"You don't know that. You've got no proof. I haven't stopped calling people Mudbloods and I definitely don't recall saying my views have changed."

"Actions speak louder than words, Draco," Dumbledore counters kindly. "I believe that if your views hadn't changed, you wouldn't be bothering to speak with Hermione apart from bullying her."

The Slytherin's jaw clenches. "That's an interesting theory."

"It isn't really a theory," the Headmaster twiddles his thumbs. "Simply an observation."

"So you've been spying on me now?"

"No," he replies simply. "I haven't."

Draco narrows his eyes. "What are you hoping to get out of this? Are you trying to get me to declare my unconditional love for Granger? Are you hoping for me to confess that all my taunts are just an act-

Dumbledore laughs. The madman _laughs_ of all things. "You haven't got to confess for me to see that your taunts are acts, Draco. I simply am wanting to know how I can help you out of your situation."

"You know nothing of my situation," Draco replies coldly. "Nothing."

"No, I don't," Dumbledore agrees. "But I would like to so I can help you out of it. You are reluctant in going about the task you want to accomplish, whatever it may be."

"How do you know? How do you know I don't think it's an honor-

"You're a brilliant student, Draco," the professor remarks quietly, scanning those kind blue eyes over him again. "You would've already finished whatever your task is, and pulled it off impressively, if it is true what you're saying about thinking it's an honor."

Draco curses internally. How does Dumbledore know so much? It seems as though he can read anyone he chooses to, no matter how well he knows them. The clock chimes midnight and Draco shakes his head. "Can I leave, sir?"

"Yes, yes, I won't keep you from a good night's sleep any longer. I bid you a good night, Draco," says Dumbledore as he bows politely and motions to the door.

::

His arms are aching. He is exhausted, absolutely exhausted. He hadn't gone back to bed the way Dumbledore had told him to, but he knows anyone who had ever been in his presence would've guessed that. The amount of magic he has been putting out is exhausting so much that he has begun lifting things into the Vanishing Cabinet by hand.

More heavy items are fitting through now; textbooks, birdcages, various paperweights sitting in the Room of Requirement, or at least in his version of it. His heart flutters unpleasantly each time one of the heavy items comes back.

The more and more solid the items getting through become, the closer he is to having to let the Death Eaters in. He has yet to have contact with anyone on the other side, that is until a note comes through along with the heavy suitcase he had managed to push through. He swallows nervously, and his throat suddenly feels oddly dry. He rips open the envelope and grimaces, preparing for the worst.

_Beloved Nephew,_

_I request a lunch date with you on the next Hogsmeade trip. Heard it's in February from an inside source. Wander off down the path near the edge of the wood and I will be there. Fenrir might tag along. We will be disguised via Polyjuice._

_You will be getting retribution for your lack of loyalty. And how dare you run from your dear aunt during Christmas? Your mother paid dearly for it. If you ask me, she was the one behind it._

_The Dark Lord is growing stronger, boy, and you best hope me and Greyback knock some sense into you before he has to._

_Best wishes,_

_Auntie Bella_

"Of course," he hisses, kicking the Vanishing Cabinet to vent his frustration. He throws the letter to the ground and aims his wand at it. "_Incendio._"

The letter catches fire at the corners and burns, a small fume of smoke going up into the air as it does so. He extinguishes it with his foot and kicks the cabinet twice more. He winces at the pain in his foot and cusses, sitting down on a nearby bench rather sulkily.

"Now what?" he mutters to himself.

::

"It smells like a brewery," Theo points out as soon as he enters the Slytherin Common Room. He is strutting as proudly as ever and wearing his usual smirk. Draco glares at him. "You could've waited for me, at the least."

"I needed to get shitfaced," Draco groans, massaging his already pounding temples. "Though now that my buzz is wearing down, I have to say I'm starting to regret it."

Theo pops open a lid of a bottle of Ogden's with his teeth and takes a long swig. "Why are you drinking this time?"

"Do I even need to give you a why anymore?" Draco lets out a bark of laughter. "I think existing is a why enough, mate."

"Ah yes, of course, more self pity for Draco Malfoy," Theo takes another swig. "It's like you thrive off your own misery. You need to lighten up. You've got more of a reason to live than half of us."

"What have I got that you all haven't? A Dark Mark? If anything, that gives me less of a reason to live."

"Get your head out of your ass for once," exclaims Theo, chuckling. "You've got what we all haven't got. You've got a girl that cares for you more than anyone, you peebrain! Do you know what I'd do to have someone care for me the way Granger cares for you?"

"Granger and I aren't even an item," Draco says tonelessly. "We've snogged and that's it. It's sexual tension. She doesn't care for me 'more than anyone' like you said. She cares for everyone."

"You expect me to buy that? If I had someone hounding me every hour of the day just to ask me if I was alright I would at least be a bit grateful for it-

"There's nothing to be grateful for," Draco sighs. "I called it off. I had to. There wasn't really anything to call off, but I had to call whatever it is... no, was, off. It could've been the death of the both of us. I would've screwed her over or something, anyways. My pals are out murdering her kind every day just for a good laugh."

"But why does that mean you can't be with her?"

"Do you know what it's like to look at her knowing that? Just look at those damn angelic features," he furrows his brow at his own words for a moment. He has always spoken too much when he was drunk, and he glares at Theo's smirk. "Pure, innocent. She's Granger. She's perhaps the most selfless and compassionate person anyone could meet. She's naive, too. She's so trusting. She trusts everyone in her life no matter what they've done to her, or what their friends have done to her-

"Yeah, yeah, I don't need drunken rambling over all the mushy feelings you have for the Gryffindor Princess, just cut to the chase."

"I can't look at her knowing that I've hurt her. A part of me has hurt her... my stupid mark has hurt her. It will hurt her. I can't look at her after hearing the vile things my aunt has said about what she wants to do to the 'Little Mudblood' when she has her way. I can't look at her knowing that I'm a part of anything that breaks her innocence. I can't do it. I'm like a bloodstain on a white dress, Theo. I'm everything bad for her."

Theo shakes his head. "Mate, stop-

Draco ignores him and chokes back a sob. He is too drunk, far too drunk. The kind of drunk where he spills his sorrows to anyone in ear length and cries over just about everything simply because he can. "Do you know what it feels like, knowing I've touched her?"

"Probably great," Theo snickers. "I wouldn't mind touching her."

Draco ignores him once again. "It feels like I've drunken Unicorn Blood because I've touched something that pure. I've defiled a part of her. You don't even understand what that feels like! I've left a stain on her, on her soul, on her innocence... A dark, ugly stain similar to the one on my arm. Up until she was around me, Hermione Granger never touched Dark Magic, even with the end of a ten foot pole, but now, because of me, she has. And it's all my fault."

"You can't go around thinking all those noble things, mate," Theo snorts. "You'll explode."

"You just don't get it," Draco seethes, and he is really sobbing now, but there are no tears. "Evil lingers with anything I lay hands on now, simply because I touched it. Everything my hands, my feet, my body touch is ruined."

Theo frowns. "I dunno about that, but your sanity might be ruined."

"I'd have killed myself by now, but then the place my body went would be ruined-

"Draco, that's enough," Theo remarks firmly, pulling his friend off the bed by the arm. "I'm not going to let you talk like that! I'm taking you to Pomfrey-

"You can't fucking do that!" Draco yelps. "You can't! What if she sees my arm? What if she sees-

"She won't see, Draco. I'll Obliviate her if she does. I don't give a fuck, and if something goes wrong I'll take all the blame. You just need a Sobering Solution and perhaps a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. When you drink too much you always go all pessimistic philosopher on me."

Draco's headache is getting worse, and his vision is growing rather blurry, so he grunts and walks beside his friend to the Hospital Wing, where he falls asleep into a bliss-like and Potion-induced sleep.

::

"Oi! Granger!" Theo calls cautiously when he sees the owl's nest that is her hair turning a corner in the corridor. Granger turns around and walks over towards him, exasperation apparent.

"Yes, Theo?"

"Draco's in the Hospital Wing, thought you ought to know. He's coming to class today, but I thought you might want to visit him during breakfast. If I were you I would. He's more set on avoiding you than ever."

"Why? Have I-

"No, you haven't done anything," Theo snorts. "I reckon you've rubbed off on him, actually. He was rambling last night about how pure and saint-like you were and how he was ruining you somehow by interacting with you. Says he's left a stain on your soul or some rubbish. He compared himself to a bloodstain on a white dress. He was pretty wasted. But he said he felt guilty for even looking at you. So if I were you, I'd sort it out before he tries to give you the silent treatment again. He's going to be drowning himself in self pity, by the way, when you see him. Says he destroys everything he touches. So be prepared for Draco's favorite quotes, 'fuck off', 'I'm a failure', you know the regular."

::

She heads right towards the Hospital Wing, of course. It pains her to think that he thinks that about himself, that he thinks he is a burden to her. Because if anything, he is her only release from all the burdens she has to cope with. It physically pains her. Because she cares so much for him, and for what he feels.

When she enters, he is there, just as Theo had said. He has large bags under and eyes and looks pale, the way he always does whenever he is hungover. She sits down on the stool beside his bed and he clenches his jaw.

"H-hi, Draco," she murmurs. She reaches out to touch his hand, but he moves his away without looking at her. "I... I wanted to see you. Theo-

"Theo's been talking now?" Draco glares at her. "I expect he told you all about my drunken ramblings and what I said about you? 'Course it's no use if he did, you don't give a shit if your presence hurts me."

"On the contrary, I don't think my presence hurts you at all. I think that it heals you, and that's why it scares you so much. That's why you want to run away."

He shows no change in expression, and she might have thought he hadn't heard her if his eyes didn't narrow and his glare didn't intensify.

She wants to tell him how she feels about the other things he had told Theo, the feelings he had confided in his friend, but thinks it might not be the best idea. She decides to tell him anyways, figuring that he needs to hear it.

"You aren't a bloodstain, Draco," she says softly. He shifts uncomfortably in his bed. "You don't destroy everything you touch. And most of all, you certainly shouldn't even think about feeling guilty for looking at me, or being around me. You didn't make my soul any less pure by making me care about you."

He still doesn't reply to her, but his knuckles whiten as he grips the side of the bed tighter. He can't look at her anymore, not as they speak of this.

"It hurts me that you'd even say that, Draco, or think that," she whispers. There is a raw pleading in her voice that makes his insides lurch. "You're so much more than a stupid Mark on your forearm, and I know I've said it before but I mean it."

He still says nothing, and she is about to give up when-

"I like the way you say my name," he admits rather awkwardly. "You say my name like I'm worth something."

Her eyes widen at the earnest truth of his statement. She has never heard him say something so innocent, so personal. It is always when he says things like this where she almost believes he actually has feelings for her.

He shakes his head and clears his throat. "I think you should go, Granger."

"I'll - I'll see you in class, Draco."

::

He smirks at her without reason during Transfiguration when she messes up on her wand motion, and she punches him in the arm when McGonagall isn't looking. He winces for a moment before they both start laughing.

She knows then that things are somewhat back to normal.

::

He gives up on keeping distance from her and sneaks up behind her when Slughorn asks them to go get something out of the storage closet in the back of the room. He ghosts his fingertips up her bare arm and presses his lips lightly to her neck.

She flinches and glares at him. "What are you doing? Anyone could look back and see-

"You could say I'm molesting you," he mumbles. "Anything you want to use to blame me, actually. You could say I was trying to kill you."

"You _are_ molesting me, and I might tell him anyways if you don't _let go_."

"Hm," he hums, wrapping his arms around her petite waist and his head on her shoulder as she grabs some of the items. "You worry too much, Granger."

"I worry too much? What do you call avoiding me because you're a 'bloodstain' or something."

"That's called the right thing to do, and what I should be doing," he shrugs. "But lucky for me, I suck at both doing the right thing and doing what should be doing."

"Obviously, you're groping me when we're supposed to be getting supplies," she mumbles weakly as she grabs the last vial of liquid she's supposed to get.

He releases her then and raises his eyebrows, smirking. "Fine, Granger. But it didn't seem like you didn't like it."

She blushes and purses her lips before rushing off to hand Slughorn his supplies.

"Granger really is something," Draco mumbles to himself, chuckling under his breath.

::

**Author's Note**

Excuse my lateness I've had quite bad writer's block. I wish I could treat that with antibiotics like I could my sinus infection. I also had responsibilities with my school choir. Love you readers!


	10. Filthy

**Chapter X - Filthy**

She tries to speak with him the day after their encounter in Potions, but he glares at her and does not respond.

She hates him, she tells herself that. But really, she doesn't know how she feels anymore.

::

He is laying in bed, not really trying to sleep, again. His mind is racing with thoughts; how could he possibly sleep like this?

Draco is dreading the Hogsmeade visit. It is merely two weeks away. Weeks will turn into days, days into hours, hours into minutes. What can he do about it?

But the answer to that is clear, because it is always the same.

He can never do anything. He is helpless. He is drowning as fate holds his head down under so he can't get air. But it is slow. It is slow and it is agonizing.

He tries to convince himself what he has with Granger is nothing, and that she hates him, and that he hates her. He even mumbles to himself aloud, but he is unsure of what he is even saying.

Granger has ruined everything he has ever believed in. But is it for better or worse? He doesn't know, but it will surely get him killed.

Yes, this is her fault. She has fucked with him somehow. Mudbloods are filth, he tells himself repeatedly. But he doesn't fucking believe it anymore.

"What have you done to me?" he shouts, running his fingers through his hair and punching a wall. "What the fuck have you done to me?"

It is working, because he needs to channel his anger somehow, and she is his only outlet. So he decides to meet where they always meet, simply to relieve his frustrations.

::

She finds him crying in the bathroom at the crack of dawn, cradling his head in his knees and shaking with audible sobs. It is the most tragic, and yet beautiful sound, she has ever heard. She stares at him from across the room.

"What's wrong, Draco?" she murmurs. "Are you okay?"

"Fucking fantastic, thanks," he snarls. She cringes and takes a few steps back "You're the last person I wanted to see right now."

"Fine then leave."

"I believe I was here first," he challenges, getting standing up and leaning against the wall. He is only five feet away, and yet the distance seems so much further.

He is... _beautiful_. That is the only way she can describe him. Even when he is so ugly towards her, he is beautiful. She feels far too much for him.

His physical appearance is near flawless from what she has seen, and she is quite sure the rest of him is just as unblemished. He is like one of the Renaissance statues she saw while in Italy. And his frustrating and infuriating personality makes him somehow more alluring. Because he is, by all means, the typical 'bad boy' her Muggle friends always swooned over. He is forbidden, and that makes him seem all the more glamorous.

"Why do you hate yourself, Draco?" she asks abruptly. She thinks the question might be too personal, but she likes her chances. His jaw clenches and he is no longer meeting her eyes. "Is it because of your family?"

"Do you really care about my family, Granger?" he laughs coldly. "Do you really give a fuck what my proud fucking family thinks? How they treat me? You don't have a right to ask me about my family."

"We're friends."

"Not anymore," he replies.

"You're absolutely ridiculous. You pull me in and then you push me away without explanation. What is it you want from me? A quick lay? That seems to be what you want from most other girls."

"I don't want anything from you," he growls. "I never did! You toy with my mind. You complicate everything! I would be a loyal Death Eater the way I'm fucking supposed to be if you didn't come in and screw everything up!"

"Don't blame me that you're not Voldemort's faithful pet-

"Well I do, so get over it-

"You're the most emotionally unstable and indecisive person I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"So that's why you keep pursuing me?"

She chuckles coldly and raises her eyebrows. Her voice is higher pitched the way it always gets when she is angry. "Oh so it's one sided now? Bollocks! _You_ were the one that kissed me. The one that asked me out to Slughorn's party, that did everything and now you're saying that I'm pursuing you! Don't blame me for this mess, you did it yourself."

"You fucking tricked me!"

"I didn't do anything," she shouts. "You changed your mind about Muggleborns on your own-

"No you cast a hex on me or something! I would never think they were worth something if I hadn't ran into you! You put an enchantment on me or something; a Confundus charm."

"Oh so now I'm to blame?" she inquires coolly. "You blame everything on everyone besides yourself. You need to take responsibility for your actions, Malfoy. You can't hide from your conflicts, internal or external, no matter how hard you try."

"You don't know me, Granger."

"Don't I? I know that you're a good actor and that you manipulated me somehow! I'm your mission, aren't I? Shag the Mudblood girl so she spills her secrets to you."

He flinches. "I didn't say that."

"It's implied," she snaps. "So this is all nothing to you? I'm nothing to you?"

No. Definitely not.

"What do you want to hear, Granger? Do you want to tell you I harbor a secret love for you and that I would risk my life to continue fooling around with you? You'll be sorely disappointed. I feel nothing for you."

Liar, liar, liar, his brain reprimands him.

"I figured as much," she hisses.

They glare at each other for a few long minutes, but it comes crashing down quickly. He takes slow, predatory steps forward before his mouth is no more than an inch from hers. He stares at her teeth and her lips, practically quivering with anticipation. "Don't tell yourself this means anything," he breathes.

The act is finalized. He kisses her with all the anger pent up inside him. The anger at her, at his father, at his aunt, at the Dark Lord, at everyone. He is rough, and he slams her up against one of the bathroom stalls, it shakes at the weight of them.

Her hands are tangled in his hair, her breaths shallow, and her cheeks flushed. He notices that her lips are slightly bruised from his aggressive nips and then he pulls her face to his again, still kissing her with the same ferocity.

She is knows she is far too carried away, and far too impulsive when she is untucking his shirt from his pants, and that she is pulling it over his head in just a moments. She has no intentions of sleeping with him, but she does want to explore the curves of his muscles, and perhaps just see what a man's chest feels like against her own.

He groans quietly when she runs her fingers down his back, and she feels his growing erection against her stomach. His fingers move up under her skirt and run a trail up her thigh and she is anticipating, before he trails them back down tantalizingly.

"You're a virgin," he murmurs, something unplaceable in his tone. It is not a question. But she figures that anyone could guess that about her, not just him.

"Yes."

He kisses her again after a moment of hesitation, but his hand is on her breast instead now. The other is rested on the small of her back. She is feeling bolder now, and she pulls her mouth away from him.

She is unsure of who kisses the other first this time, because it seems simultaneous. She is overwhelmed by the sensations he is bringing her. He pulls away for a moment and smirks that lopsided smirk at her. "Breathe, Granger," he chuckles under his breath.

She was previously unaware she has been forgetting to breathe, but it is relieving when she does, and she leans in to snog him again. She is dizzy in the most pleasant way there is, and she is intoxicated by it. She can't even remember where she is anymore, or how she got there, all she knows now is him. She tangles her fingers in his hair, and he nips at her lips and releases a soft groan when she sucks on his lower lip.

"Doesn't mean anything," he mumbles incoherently against her lips.

She doesn't hear him, though, for she herself is lost in what they are doing. She clutches tightly onto his back as he pulls her legs around his waist and grinds his pelvis against her own. She whimpers, and he does it again, and again, and again, until she actually moans.

"Oh _God_."

He is pleased with her response, and he clutches her bum and presses her closer to him. He is feeling greedy; no matter how much he is touching her it is never enough. Part of him wants to rip off her knickers and take her right there, but that isn't even an option. For one, he would push her away so badly that she would never come back, and for another it would be far too easy for him to be found out if he had too much emotion to block with Occlumency. He already feels too much for Granger to be comfortable with his risk level.

She pulls her face away from his, but stays in his arms. Her breathing his heavy, and her knickers uncomfortably wet. Her eyes are darker, a chocolaty brown rather than their usual amber tone, and her pupils dilated. So this is what Hermione Granger looks like when she's horny.

"Th-This isn't right."

He presses open mouthed kisses behind her ear. She shivers. "Nothing really is anymore, is it?"

He respects her wishes, though. He kisses her on the lips one last time before setting her down. He pulls his on shirt back on, and they stare at eachother for a long moment. It is awkward, as it always is... there is no way it can't be. He is Pureblood, she is Muggleborn, he is a Slytherin, she is a Gryffindor; he's Draco Malfoy, she's Hermione Granger. The awkwardness is inevitable.

He turns to leave, but she places her hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Draco... be safe."

He sighs and feathers a kiss on her forehead despite himself. "No promises. And I still hate you, Granger. I do."

But he can't. He can't hate her, even though he needs to.

::

"I need your advice, Theo," Draco sighs, sitting behind his friend on one of the many leather sofas in the common room. It is after hours, the only light in the room the fire and everyone else surely fast asleep. Theo looks up from his book and arches an eyebrow. "I can't hate Granger."

"Not this mopey philosopher again," Theo groans. "Draco, no offense, but I don't want to hear you be a sap for hours again."

"I'm not going to 'be a sap' this time. I was drunk last time-

Theo raises his eyebrows. "You reek of Firewhiskey right now."

"That's beside the point," Draco glares at his friend. "The point is I can't hate Granger."

"How do you expect me to fix that? You're the one that snogged her and hung around her. Face it, mate, you dug your own grave here."

"I know but I need to hate her. I need to find a way to hate her," he mumbles. Theo winces. His friend sounds so... pleading, and so helpless. "I need to hate her or she's going to get hurt. I can't let her get hurt."

"You care for her," Theo murmurs. "You really do. For a while I wasn't sure if you just wanted to shag her or if you actually fancied her but... you care about her, don't you?"

"I don't."

"Then why-

"I don't care about her because I can't. I absolutely can't care about anything, especially a Mudblood! They'll find out and they'll kill us; both of us, and our families. I'm not even aloud to think of her."

"Draco-

"Fuck," he hisses. "I was so foolish. Do you know how reckless it is? How fucking selfish I've been? I've been off snogging some Mudblood knowing I was risking everything. And the worst part is I didn't even care about the consequences we could receive. What kind of person am I?"

"She isn't some Mudblood to you, though," Theo points out. Draco makes a scoffing noise and Theo looks at him sternly. "Draco, get passed the shit. You don't have to admit it for me to know. I don't need to hear you admit it. But just... think about her for a moment. Think about if you didn't have to believe those things. Then would you still think she was some Mudblood?"

"Her eyes," Draco hums abruptly after taking another swig of firewhiskey. "That was the first thing I noticed about her when I began to think she was human. I used to think they were just shit brown but they're like cinnamon."

"Yeah, yeah, we all know Granger's a looker ever since puberty. She's got a nice perky rack too."

"Theo do everyone a favor and shut up," the blonde remarks, smirking at him. "She's mine. I hate her, but she's mine."

"You don't hate her."

"You don't know shit about how I feel. She's... infuriating, and prudish, and... everything else."

"But you like her for that," Theo says with a knowing grin. "You like her for all of that. You don't hate her, Draco. I know you don't."

"I don't hate her for the same reason anymore," Draco shrugs. "I used to hate her because she was just so... _Granger_. But now I hate her for an entirely different reason."

"Why do you hate her?"

"She screwed with my head. She made me think Mudbloods were _human_, and that my whole childhood was wrong. She made me question myself, and she made me care about morals. How the bloody hell am I to kill Dumbledore now?

"But that's not the worst part. Granger made me care about her, and she made me have affection for her that the Dark Lord could easily pick up. Granger made me want to risk everything. She was so fucking tempting. She makes me want her still.

"And she makes it so hard to stay on my side, even for my family. She makes it so hard... she complicated everything. I hate her for it. I really do."

Theo nods solemnly. "She really does care about you, Draco. Just... tell her that instead of being a git and calling her a Mudblood."

"But that's what I have to do for the Dark Lord. He'll go through my mind and see it. Or Bellatrix will... that would probably be worse," Draco shudders. "God, there is no way for this to be easy, is there?"

Theo laughs a cold, humorless laugh. "There is nothing easy anymore. Not for any of us. Do you know what I'm doing over the Easter holiday? Getting a fucking Dark Mark. And the Death Eaters think Muggleborns are scum. They're the real scum, all of them."

"Yeah," Draco replies tonelessly. "We are, aren't we?"

"You don't count as one. You don't want to be."

"I have to want to. It is... necessary."

"But you don't," Theo shakes his head. "Because if you did, then you wouldn't have fallen for Hermione Granger, the most wanted Mudblood of them all."

::

Oh Godric, what the hell am I doing? she asks herself repeatedly as she approaches Theodore Nott in the library. She doesn't want to have to speak with him first, and luckily, he notices her and smirks. "I was wondering when you were going to find me. Asking me about Draco?"

"Well, yes," she blushes. "He hasn't been in class for a week and he was an emotionally unstable mess the last time I saw him."  
"He's always an emotionally unstable mess," Theo shakes his head. "What do you want to know?"

"Is he... is he okay?"

"Physically? He's just fine. He's breathing, and he has a beating heart. But emotionally? I don't really think he can count as alive, no matter his physical state. You have no idea what he's going through, and I s'pose I don't either."

"Does he hate me?" she asks, swallowing nervously. "I-I mean, he told me he did, the last time I saw him, but he had just snogged me. I don't even know what's with him or what he feels for me but... does he hate me?"

"He wants to."

"But does he?"

Theo looks at her with his electric blue eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says in little more than a breath.

"Has he spoken of me at all?" she questions. She is still anxious. He could still dislike her, after all. What if she is nothing to him at all? That would without doubt be the worst option; if there were no feelings at all. None.

"He doesn't talk about much else, really," Theo rolls his eyes. "Just you, how much his life sucks and the Dark Mark."

Hermione purses her lips, thinking. "Well you should try and make him get back to class! It would be what I would do for my friends-

Theo interrupts her with a snort. "Of course you would. You're Hermione Granger. And believe me, I've tried. He won't listen to a word I'm saying. He won't be the same until after tonight... Fuck, I've said too much."

"What's happening today?"

"I can't tell you-

"Something's happening at Hogsmeade. I know it."

"I can't-

"Tell me."

"I suggest you ask him-

"Do you really think he'd talk to me about it? He just thinks I'm some Mudblood and a danger to his damned name. I want to know what's going on because obviously he's dreading it, and it's obviously why he's acting strange."

"Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix LeStrange?" Hermione gapes at Theo.

"Well it's not a very common name, is it?" Theo replies. "That's all I can tell you, and it's already too much. Draco's going to kill me."

"Can I see him?"

"I dunno, is your vision alright?"

She swats his arm them. "I just want to know how he's doing, you pompous prat! You and Draco are like clones of each other."

"He'll talk to you after," Theo assures her.

If there is one, he thinks. He wonders how the hell Draco got himself into this mess, but when he looks at Granger's lovely being, he can see exactly why.

::

Draco's heart is pounding in his ears. He can't believe he is actually standing before his aunt, and standing before Fenrir fucking Greyback. He hasn't seen them since his initiation, and they both look murderous. Do they know somehow? He shakes his head at the thought. No, they don't. They can't.

"Draco, my darling nephew," Bellatrix smiles a falsely sweet smile and wraps her arms around him. He is disgusted by this; repulsed, even. She has killed so many of Granger's kind... fuck, he can't think about Granger now. Her smile fades away after a moment and she furrows her brow. "You're blocking me out of your mind now. What is it that you have to hide?"

"What is it that you're trying to go through my mind for?" he spits back. He regrets saying it almost instantly when his aunt's face forms into that evil leer again. He can't call it a 'false smile' even. His aunt has probably never known how to smile.

"I've heard curious things coming back from the school," the witch drawls. "Very curious. Pansy Parkinson likes talking, see. She's trying to get in the ranks. She says you've been spending a lot of time with Potter's Mudblood."

He sucks in a breath and flinches. "Parkinson's always been a master storyteller. She's told everyone she's in the Dark Lord's ranks and-

"_SILENCE!_" Bellatrix shouts, pointing one of her skeletal fingers at him. "Silence. I don't want to hear this nonsense. Explain yourself. Are you looking for a good fuck? If you are, there are plenty of willing witches that are far more pure and worthy than the likes of her. I can hire you any girl you want, though I'm sure money wouldn't be necessary. Is the Mudblood good with her hands? Her lips, perhaps? Pansy didn't say she knew, but she had her hunches, as do I."

"I'm trying to get information," Draco feigns disinterest in the conversation. "It's nothing, really. Just a little plan I thought of."

"Let him have his fun, Bella," Greyback pats Draco on the back. He cringes. "After all, perhaps he can bring me her as a treat when he's done with her..."

"I'm not shagging her!"

"Surely you want to be, though? Even I wouldn't mind... it's been a long time. I'd love to see the Mudblood squirm. It's always better without their consent... Bet she's sweet on the inside too."

Draco wants to slap the bastard. How can he talk about Granger like that? Like she's nothing. Like she is a common whore. But Greyback doesn't stop.

"Perhaps I could fuck her after I bite her..."

"Enough," Draco blurts without thought.

Bellatrix narrows her eyes. "Jealous, dear Nephew? Don't want anyone else inside your little girlfriend-

"You didn't let me finish," Draco raises his eyebrows and puts on a hard mask to hide his emotions. "I believe the Dark Lord will decide on whether you get her as a prize, Fenrir. Though why you'd want her, I'm not sure."

Bellatrix grins proudly and pats him on the back. "I should've known that Parkinson was a jealous little brat. She's always begging for attention. That's why the Dark Lord won't accept her... you with a Mudblood," she pauses, studying him. "But if I find out it is indeed true, there will be repercussions for your actions."

Draco winces when he feels his Dark Mark burn. He clutches it and curses unintentionally. But he feels a much sharper pain surge through his bloodstream a moment later, and hears a distant cackle that sounds like his aunt. But it is only pain in this reality. Pain, pain, pain.

He is back as suddenly as it began, and he finds that he is lying spread-eagled on the ground helplessly.

"You mustn't show weakness. I won't tolerate it. Strength is in our blood. Surely your loyalty isn't wavering? Though, it would make sense considering the delay on the cabinet... you're bright enough to have finished it if you were really trying," she sniffs the air and cackles that mad cackle. "I smell your _guilt_, your _reluctance_! What, is poor _Drakey_ afraid of power? Is he worried for what will happen to his friends, his classmates, if the Death Eaters enter Hogwarts?"

"What's it to you if I'm worried for my friends?"

"There are no friends, Draco, only the Dark Lord and his power. You've learned all that in your seventeen years of life. You've practiced and preached it, and you've rejoiced in it."

"Surely the Dark Lord is your friend? Surely my mother is your friend... Your husband. You worry for them, do you not?"

"Your mother means nothing to me anymore," Bellatrix hisses. "I can assure you that. She's wavered in her loyalty... She's undeserving and ungrateful. She doesn't want her dear precious only son fighting for the Dark Lord."

"So you wouldn't be worried if you knew she could be in a situation of mortal danger?"

"Should I be?"

"She's your sister," he replies coolly. "And she's my mother."

"And I'm your aunt. Let me offer you some advice, Draco. Don't listen to your mother. She is unworthy of all that the Dark Lord has done for her."

Draco glares daggers at her. "Done what exactly? Taken her only son away from her?"

"It should be an honor for her to have you at his service! She disrespects the Dark Lord with each complaint she makes, and she fails to see the generosity he has to offer!"

"The Dark Lord, though he is generous, he hasn't been generous to her," he says tonelessly. "And neither have you. I heard about you torturing her. Was it really necessary? She hasn't done anything."

"She hasn't been loyal to the Dark Lord!"

"Does she still deserve to be tortured?"

"There will come a time, Draco, when you will do what your father did and leave your relationships behind so you can thrive and prosper properly. Love is weakness. Power is the only thing you should love; power and the Dark Lord."

The thought of loving the Dark Lord sends shivers down his spine. How could he do it? How did he convince so many people his cause was right?

"Of course I love the Dark Lord," Draco lies through gritted teeth.

"You're lying," Bellatrix accuses, narrowing her eyes cynically. "I can feel your fear when I speak of him... you cringe at the mention of his name. You are to learn your lesson, Draco, by the next time I see you or I won't hesitate to punish you. You may leave."

He has almost walked out of the clearing when he hears her call his name. He stops, but he does not look back.

"If what Pansy is telling me is true, I'll make it my own personal task to eliminate you."

Draco is frozen for a few moments, and then he continues walking without saying another word. His breathing is still shallow and quick when he returns. But then again, at least he is breathing.

He breaks down crying as soon as he shuts the door to his dormitory.

::

She expects her worries to go away when she sees him, but when she passes him in the corridor the next day, he looks more battered and broken than he ever was. He seems to have lost weight, and his eyes look sunken in and haunted. She comes up to him and leans up the wall beside him cautiously, and he glares at her.

"Draco-

"I thought I told you I hated you," he mumbles. "I thought I told you I didn't want you in my life."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she sighs. "Do you have to be on your guard all the time?"

"You shouldn't care if I'm okay. You're nothing more than a Mudblood to me."

"Well I do care if you're okay, and you're going to have to deal with it," she replies firmly. "You look so ill."

His lips twitch at the corners into something like a smile, but not quite. "You're the most stubborn witch I've ever known, you know."

"You didn't answer my question."

"No, Granger, I'm not 'okay'", he snaps. "None of us are. You're not either. We're all waiting for the war. I wish it would strike so we weren't stuck with this damn fear and anticipation. I wish I didn't have to flinch at every little bump in the night."

"What happened at Hogsmeade with Bellatrix?"

His posture stiffens, and he clenches his fists. "Theo told you about that?"  
"He wanted me to know."

"Do you ever stay out of my business?" Draco snarls. "You aren't supposed to know these things!"

"Why do you get so defensive over everything? I'm just trying to help!"

"Because it's none of your fucking business! I don't need your help, Granger. I can take care of myself. We aren't bloody children."

"Obviously you can't take care of yourself you ended up with a damned Dark Mark on your forearm and went willingly over to Bellatrix LeStrange! What the hell are you thinking? If she saw any of your memories..." Hermione trails off, shaking her head before meeting his eyes with a glare again. "Did you two talk about how disgusting Mudbloods were? If you did, did you mention that you snogged o-

He interrupts you, placing his hand over her mouth and getting in her face. "Shut up, Granger. I know perfectly well that I snogged a filthy Mudblood. And now I happen to have feelings for that Mudblood, and I'm royally fucked. Do you know how reckless I've been? How fucking stupid I've been for even considering this as an option?"

She pushes his hand away from her mouth, and tries to escape his arms. He has her trapped, pinned against a wall. Anyone could walk by to go the bathroom, though it is night time... anyone could find them. "Did you say you have feelings for me?" she asks, her gaze softening despite itself.

He clenches his jaw. "Granger-

"No, Draco... it's just... I didn't think you cared. I thought you thought of me as filth again-

"I still do."

"But you have feelings for me."

He nods shortly and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We did talk about Mudbloods. We talked about loyalty to the Dark Lord. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want to hear about the person I really am?"

"I do want to hear it, but I don't agree that it's the person you really are."

He laughs darkly. "Don't you understand Granger? Don't you understand why I don't want to talk to you about this?"

"Not really, no. You know you can trust me-

He presses a finger to her lips softly to shush her. "I don't want you to know that I'm a monster. If anyone's filthy between the two of us, it's me."

"Can you let me go now? If you're not going to do anything..."

"Do you want me to do something?" he questions. "Even after you hear the fucked up shit I talked about with my dear aunt?"

"You're acting when you do that?"

"Yeah, well you might end up like my mother," Draco shakes his head. He is about to tell her about his family life for Merlin's sake. "She fell for a man who was in the same position I am. He didn't believe it at first, either. But then he changed... something switched off in him, his moral compass or something. Everything went haywire. He kills people now, Granger."

"You aren't your father."

"Really? Because Bellatrix sure thinks I am."

"She's wrong."

Draco's lips part, and he makes that clicking noise with his tongue again. Hermione reckons he does it when he is thinking. He meets her amber eyes with his grey ones, but the grey is soft now, along with his expression. "What do you want from me, Granger?"

"Kiss me," she whispers.

"I'm evil."

"I'll convince you otherwise. Please-

They pull apart when they hear footsteps and humming from the corridor, and then tense when they see that it is Albus Dumbledore. He hadn't seen anything, but Hermione still knows how suspicious this looks, and that they are supposed to be on patrol. But he just smiles at them with those twinkling eyes. "Good evening."

Draco grunts to reply, but Hermione replies with the same phrase.

"I've interrupted something, haven't I? Well, kindly do finish it later, you are supposed to be on patrol, after all."

And then the headmaster walks off, and Draco lets out a bark of laughter. "Well that was certainly a mood killer, wasn't it?"

::

Draco is digging his nails into his palms so tightly that he is drawing blood. He is tense and stiff in an attempt to keep from saying anything. Sometimes he really hates sitting with Slytherins. Today they are taunting Granger.

"Oi, Granger. Been shagging Weasley lately?" Blaise calls forward smugly. "Don't know why anyone would want to shag you. Say, since you love books so much, is it a fetish? Maybe you two have late night rendezvous in the library. Does Madam Pince join in?"

The clan of Slytherins snicker coldly.

"Maybe if your tits were the size of your brains someone would notice you. It's good

to see that Weasley has realized being a blood traitor isn't the best option. Thanks for teaching him, the last thing we need is another filthy half blood."

Draco grinds his teeth together and glares forward at the wall. Don't say anything, he tells himself. It will be too suspicious.

"Since you're so good at Transfiguration, maybe you should Transfigure yourself. Make

yourself easier on the eyes," Crabbe taunts.

Draco glares at Snape now, who is doing nothing to stop this. The Slytherins laugh again.

"I think she fancies Draco," Pansy declares in her high pitched voice. "She clings to him like a parasite. Not that she'd ever have a chance. She's really ugly. She's too thin as well, maybe she's starving herself. Poor her, skinny's all she's got besides her brains. She should kill herself and do everyone a favor"

He sees tears in Granger's eyes when she spins around. "Shut up," she shrieks. "Shut up you evil cow."

"My father killed your uncle yesterday," Pansy boasts. Draco lets a growl escape him. So that's why Granger was so frazzled in Transfiguration. "On my request."

"Wouldn't want to go around announcing that Parkinson," Draco drawls, glaring at her. "That's thick, even for you."

"Oooh! Of course!" Pansy cackles. "Draco's defending his filthy girlfriend. Does he call you a Mudblood to turn you on, Granger?"

"You're doing this for my attention," Draco snaps. "But I suggest you stop. You're more filthy than she'll ever be, or ever has been."

"Surely you agree she's ugly, though?" Blaise arches an eyebrow, smirking. "I mean look at her. Not saying you're any better, Parkinson, because you aren't. But at least Parkinson won't contaminate you with filth. Reckon you'd have to shower for ages if you shagged Granger, and it still wouldn't leave."

"That's thick, Blaise," Draco hears Theo say. He is surprised... Theo is rarely one to speak to anyone besides him at all, especially in a conflict. "Because I believe it was you saying that you wouldn't mind her sucking you off the other day in the common room. I heard you and Crabbe, you know."

"Get back to work, all of you!" Snape shouts dangerously, pointing to their papers. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"They started it," Draco protests. His peers look at him as though he can't be serious. "They were taunting her."

But Snape ignores him.

Of course.

::

She catches up with him in the hall after their last class of the day, and she puts her hand on his arm to get his attention. He looks at her with an unreadable expression. "Thank you... for doing that."

"I'm going to get hell later," he mumbles. "Wouldn't be surprised if Blaise hexed me... reckon Theo has already been beaten up. But I don't regret it."

She smiles sheepishly at him, and she looks up at the ceiling for a moment before laughing airily. "Draco... do you want to talk in the library after dinner? I do have homework studying to do and I could use a partner."

He raises his eyebrows. "What he said was true, then."

Hermione furrows her brow. "What are you talking about?"

"The book fetish."

Hermione punches his arm and attempts to glare at him, but her smile gives her away. He smiles back. She looks down at the ground before she speaks. "I thought you were talking about me being filthy."

His lips turn up at the corners and he feathers a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering after. "You're not filthy, Granger."

Before he leaves, he turns back to say something to her.

"I'm sorry about your uncle, Hermione."

If she didn't know before, she now knows that she feels far too much for Draco Malfoy.

::

**Author's Note**

Lots and lots of revision was put into this chapter. I'm afraid my OCD is becoming far worse than it was before. Yikes.


	11. Suspicions

**Chapter XI - Suspicions**

Harry and Ron look at each other with an odd expression when Hermione leaves the Great Hall from dinner before them.

"D'you reckon she's hiding something?" Ron questions.

Harry furrows his brow and turns to Ginny. "Is she? She talks to you more than us these days. You would know."

"Is she seeing someone?" Ron asks, crinkling his nose in disgust.

Ginny smirks. Ah, her brother really is thick. "Well wouldn't _you_ like to know? Honestly, if I didn't know better I'd say you'd be _jealous_."

Ron turns pink. "I would not!"

"Sure," Ginny mumbles, still grinning.

::

Only the floating candles are lighting the library when she enters, and she looks through all the aisles before making her way through the final one. She nearly lets a scream escape her when she feels a hand brush her hip, but a firm hand clasps over her mouth from behind her to stop her, and she hears the familiar airy chuckle of Draco Malfoy.

"Startled?" he whispers, pressing his lips against her neck.

"Why is it so dark in here?" she whispers back. "Isn't the library supposed to be open? It's never closed this early."

"It's nearly eleven, Granger. And she's not here," Draco shrugs. "Went off somewhere. I ran into her right before I came in here and she said she was closing it early. I told her I was going to sort books, therefor she let me in."

Hermione snorts. "She's probably off shagging Filch. She always closes the library when she does, but she lets me stay."

"You might be astounded Granger," he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and smirks. "But I don't really want to hear about Madam Pince's sexual escapades right now."

She smiles at him and wraps her arms around his chest to show her affection for him and his dry sarcasm. He seems uncomfortable with the gesture, but she still doesn't release him. "How are you?" she murmurs once she pulls away.

"The answer to that question hasn't changed. I feel quite repetitive," he meets her gaze and smirks at her. "But at least I still have my good looks."

"Self righteous git," she remarks. She tries to glare at him for it, but she ends up smiling instead. She likes it, really. She likes his little arrogant quirks, and he looks quite enticing when he smirks like that.

"So you've told me," he chuckles under his breath.

He raises his hand and rests it on her cheek, grazing her cheekbone with his thumb. Her lips part, and she loves the feel of this. It is so innocent, and so gentle; especially for him. He cups the other side of her face before picking her up and setting her down on the table running along the shelves. He settles in between her legs and gives her that signature smirk.

He leans in slowly, slowly, slowly. She is frustrated with this, as she just wants to be kissing him, and she grabs his face halfway through and tugs his face to hers and kisses him fervently. He returns the gesture, though his eyes remain wide and open for a few moments with surprise. He pulls away for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "Well you might be just a little enthusiastic," he utters smugly.

She flashes him a glare before deciding to just snog him again once she realizes that she doesn't have any comeback for that. Because she is enthusiastic. She feels very enthusiastic.

She is feeling rather bold today, so she trails kisses down his neck before she stops between his neck and his shoulder to suck on a particularly receptive piece of skin. He lets out a soft moan, and she feels him harden after a couple of minutes go by. She looks at the mouth shaped mark she left apologetically. "Sorry for that."

He growls. "Don't apologize, Granger."

He picks her up off the desk again and pins her up against one of the bookshelves rather roughly, knocking over a few books. She frowns at him. "Madam Pince is going to kill us both, you know."

"Like I care," he mutters, pressing his lips to hers again.

He wraps his hands around her wrists and pulls them above her head, pouring every emotion he is feeling into the kiss they are sharing. He is feeling bold, too, now. So he grinds his pelvis against hers and chuckles when she moans, and so does it again, pleased by her reaction. He's far too aroused, and he knows he won't be able to shag her, and will most likely need a cold shower before bed.

She feels completely out of control. She is so absorbed in him, that she wouldn't even care what he did to her. He could take her against the bookshelf and she wouldn't have any qualms whatsoever. Her knickers are probably drenched. Her thoughts, and even more so, her hormones, are racing.

"W-wait," she stutters. "This is..."

"I'm well aware," he mumbles. "Believe me when I say I am."

"I do believe you," she murmurs.

His lips part and he simply stares at her. "You shouldn't. I'm not trustworthy. If you even_ knew_ I was doing..."

"It doesn't count considering you don't want to do it. If I believe anything about you, it's that."

He licks his lip and releases her from his arm, standing beside her. "You don't even know what you've done to me."

"I don't want to hear this right now, Draco," she snaps. "I don't want the Mudblood talks. In case you haven't noticed-

What he says next shuts her up, though. "You've given me some ridiculous sense of hope for myself."

She brings her mouth to his again, because she has to. She has to so she can vent all the emotion she is feeling for him. She is proud of him for coming so far. He isn't free of prejudices, but he is better than he was, and that means everything. She feels forgiveness for what he has done to her in the past, and for what he will do in the future, whatever it may be. She finds herself thinking 'I adore you' and other silly little things she will never say out loud, at least not to him.

He slides his tongue across her bottom lip, and she allows him access, moaning when he explores her mouth with it. She forgets everything except for how she is doing this with him, and that thought alone is enough to make her head spin.

But the beautiful bubble of bliss she is in when there is the sound of the library door opening, and then a few footsteps.

Her state of contentment is completely replaced by nerves when the drawling voice of Severus Snape asks, "Who's there? Surely not students out of bed?"

Hermione tries to make a break for it, but Draco wraps his arms around her from behind and pull her to him again. "Don't move, Granger," he rasps against her skin, kissing her neck again until a whimper escapes her. He covers her mouth after that, and she is wide eyed. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears as the footsteps get closer.

Draco draws his wand and presses it against Hermione, casting a quick Disillusionment Charm. Snape will not mind him out of bed, he knows this.

"Hello, Professor," Draco greets. Snape struts over leers at him.

"You mustn't _risk_ anything, Draco," Snape mutters darkly. "You are already in trouble, from what I hear."

Hermione is nervous, only a foot away from Snape. She tries to step back further, but she trips over her feet and there is a small noise of her catching herself from falling completely.

Snape arches an eyebrow at Draco. "Surely you're here alone?"

"Yes, sir," Draco lies smoothly. "I'm here on research."

"On r_esearch_," Snape repeats, cynicism ripe in his voice. His eyes flicker up to the numbers on the bookshelves before smirking. "So tell me why it is that you are in the Muggle Studies section of the library if this has anything to do with your research. Surely you don't want anything to do with filth? Or are Bellatrix's statements true... Perhaps you're trying to court a Mudblood with your impressive knowledge on her parents? Or perhaps she's here with you, giving you a little _lesson._"

"Why don't you mind your own business?"

"You say you're here alone?" Snape asks. Draco can't help but notice the ever lingering skepticism in his voice.

"Yes, sir."

"So you wouldn't mind if I spoke of your mission openly? About how you're going to-

"Stop," Draco growls harshly. He is breathing heavy now, glaring at Snape. "That's enough."

"Oh? How's the Vanishing Cabinet coming along? Surely you wouldn't mind me talking openly about what you're planning to do."

"Stop," Draco repeats in a shout, clenching his fists.

Snape smirks triumphantly. "So tell me, who is here with you? If I understand correctly, you have found interest in Granger."

Hermione sucks in a breath and winces. How did they know? Did Draco tell them? They had barely been seeing each other at all, and they certainly weren't dating. She felt somewhat sick to her stomach when she thought of the Death Eaters finding out; but it was not for her. He would be killed, probably... and his family... He had mentioned that a couple of times, as well.

"Bellatrix's words are all rubbish," Draco replies curtly, his tone slightly more high-pitched than before. He clears his throat, trying not to let his guilt pass his features and putting up Occlumency, just in case. "She has no proof. I'd want nothing to do with Granger. She's one of _them_. Potter's little whore..."

He trails off and grimaces. Hermione stirs in the corner, swallowing bile in her throat. It is an act, she tries to remind herself. But it is so much harder because Draco Malfoy is a particularly good actor.

"Hm."

Draco swallows, preparing to lie through his teeth one more, just for some effect. Snape still looks rather doubtful. "She's scum. I'm only kind to her so I don't seem too suspicious, anyways."

She grimaces, wanting very badly to leave now. She can't take any more of hearing Draco speak of her that way.

"Filthy Mudblood," he mutters. "She'll be put in her place when the Dark Lord takes over."

"Which won't come to happen if you slack off anymore," Snape hisses. "Have I made myself clear?"

"You aren't even in this."

He arches an eyebrow. "Do I have to be to know what dear Bella would do to you if she found you slacking off? If she knew of all your reckless little escapades like this one... You are only a boy. You are no man, not like the Dark Lord said you were..."

"Stop," Draco snarls.

There is a long pause.

"Whatever this thing is that you have going on that's distracting you, regardless if it's with Granger or not, needs to be ended. Or else I will tend to it on my own means," Snape drawls silkily, and then he is gone from the room, his cloak in the air behind him. The old bat.

He casts a reversal spell on Granger before looking to her. She is wide-eyed, and her breathing is still somewhat out of control. He isn't sure what there is to say to her. Surely she knows it was an act, right? That he had to? Granger has a large enough mind to process that.

Only she looks hurt. And Merlin, she is. She feels on the verge of tears. She isn't sure if she knows what to believe. He had just told her not to trust him, right? But he can be so considerate and, well, gentle with her.

And yet he's so good at lying, and deceiving. He is still Draco Malfoy to the core. She knows this, and she doesn't know if she'd change it if she could, and that scares her a lot more than it should. Damn him and his Slytherin charisma, she fumes internally. He is studying her, waiting for her to speak, but she says nothing. He arches an eyebrow at her, and she lets out a sigh of defeat.

"Alright, well I'll just be going to bed," she mumbles, unsure of what else there really is to say in a situation like this.

"Not before I've had my say and explained what I said, Granger."

She walks past him anyways, calling 'Goodnight, Malfoy' behind her before leaving the library.

::

Harry is getting suspicious. Hermione can feel it by the way he looks at her like she has something to hide. Which in all fairness, she does. Ron is giving her the silent treatment, and that is even more of a clue that Harry has suspicions.

The whole castle is full of suspicions; not just about her.

The atmosphere is tense. There are too many disappearances in the Daily Prophet. There are murmurs and accusations over Katie Bell, who has yet to return from St. Mungo's.

Looming war is in the air, lingering over; its stench constant. The worst part is the anticipation.

The suspicions.

::

"What's up with you and Granger?" Theo asks abruptly during Herbology. "I mean, you two are hardly even speaking anymore. Something happened."

"Oh you know, just me fucking things up," Draco mumbles. He sighs. This will be a long story, and a rather mortifying one as well. "As usual. I keep doing that. I was... I called her a Mudblood to Snape when she was there. Granger and I were snogging and Snape came in the library. I had to perform a Disillusionment Charm on her really quickly. Snape knew someone else was there... I don't know how. I was using Occlumency and everything to get him out of my head, but it seems he didn't need to get in my head to know someone was there. He asked me about Granger, too. He asked me if she was there. I said no and it wasn't covert enough so I had to insult her some to convince him."

Theo makes a scoffing sound and glares at Granger, who is currently on the other side of the Greenhouse talking to Potter. "Well what the bloody hell does she think you're going to do? Confess your undying love for her?"

"I'm not in love with her and-

"Mate, it was a sarcastic question. Don't get your knickers in a twist," Theo rolls his eyes. "You'd both be fucked if you were found out, and Snape's in league with You-Know-Who. What does she think you're going to say?"

"I don't know. Witches are all absolutely mad."

Theo smirks. "And we're not?"

::

She can feel his eyes on her as she studies during her free period, staring her down from across the library. She has been avoiding him simply because she is too unsure. What he said to Snape was explainable; he would surely be accused if he had acted otherwise... but the way he had said it.

Draco Malfoy is a good liar. All Slytherins are good liars, but perhaps him in particular. His charm, his wit, and his intellect make for a very good liar. He is unpredictable, and he can be colder than the cold February weather ever is. He gets angry, and he is indecisive. He is perhaps the subject she has studied most.

She can't pinpoint what it is about him that makes him so damn alluring to her. He is arrogant, stubborn, temperamental, cold, bitter, and anything else you could name, and yet he is everything she wants.

It is a constant battle; a battle of morals, of pride, of intellect, of blood, and of sides. In battle, there are only two possible outcomes; either both of them win, or both of them lose.

But she is unsure of which outcome is considered winning when there is so much to lose in both.

::

Draco's hands are shaking as he steps into the Vanishing Cabinet; he really has no choice but to do so. He is unsure of who will be waiting on the other side. He has waited long enough, and he doesn't want to face the wrath of his aunt; so he has to show someone he's made progress.

The shop is as dark as ever; only a candle lighting it. Borgin is examining some odd looking Dark object, and the night outside looks far creepier than it should.

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," Borgin drawls, bowing. "I wondered when you would come through. Come to show you've made progress?"

"Of course," Draco replies. "Why else would I be here?"

"Perhaps buying another necklace?"

Draco shakes his head. "No, that didn't work last time. It was clumsy. They were all displeased with me at almost giving myself away. I was desperate."

Borgin leers at him unpleasantly. "Well at least you're back on track. It is very nice to see you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you like some soup, or perhaps a cup of tea? You look famished."

His stomach growls, but he shakes his head. "I'm not hungry," he lies.

But he is hungry; starving, actually. He just doesn't want to explain that he is so stressed that he can't keep food down anymore.

"I'll tell Madame LeStrange that you stopped by," Borgin says, grabbing a rather worn looking owl and a quill and parchment. He scribbles a note quickly.

Draco winces.

"So you're not too fond of her, I take?" Borgin smirks. "None of them are. All of the Death Eaters are rather afraid of her. Who can blame them? She's absolutely mad. She's rather polite with me, or polite for _her_, anyways."

"And are you afraid of her, sir?"

Borgin tilts his head to the side. "I would be a fool not to be."

"Yeah," Draco agrees. "You probably would."

"Well, you best be off, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nods, opening the Vanishing Cabinet again and stepping through, collapsing against it and sobbing when he returns to the Room of Requirement.

::

He stares at her from across the room in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He needs Granger's comfort now more than ever, and he doesn't know how to go about telling her that without sounding like a total sap. She hasn't as much as looked at him for two days; probably as a result of what he had said to Snape. He reckons she is probably unsure of which side of him is the truth, and what feelings he really has for her.

But he wonders the same thing; he's not sure, either.

::

He is the one who corners her, and this is a first. He finds her after dinner and follows her into the Prefect's Bathroom, where she is assumedly going to bathe. He tries to shake those images out of his mind, but fails.

He watches as she takes her hair out of the messy ponytail and smirks to himself. Granger's hair has always been his favorite thing to tease her about, but as she parts it neatly around her face in the bathroom mirror, he thinks the curls frame her face quite nicely. She still has yet to notice him, and he starts to feel somewhat awkward. _Say something smooth_, he tells himself.

"Erh," comes out instead.

She turns to look at him. Her lips part and her eyes widen. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"So we're back to Malfoy now?" he questions, grimacing.

"Well you call me by my last name, so it hardly matters that I would do the same to you," she replies, shrugging.

"I like it when you say my name," he mumbles. "I've told you before."

"Well, I don't know if anything you've told me is true anyways, so how would I know if that's even a true statement?"

"Are you seriously back on this, now?" he questions, somewhat hurt at her lack of trust for him. But then again, he reminds himself, he hasn't really done anything to warrant trust.

She nibbles her lip as though she is thinking, and it makes him long to just pounce on her and skip the conversation at all. "Did you mean it - what you said to Snape?"

"No, I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you sound like..." she trails off and takes a deep breath. "You sounded pretty convinced of what you were saying."

"I'm a Slytherin. I was born with the ability to lie in my blood. Plus the fact that my views have just changed on the matter of Blood Status in the past few months."

"That's the problem!" she snaps, her voice quivering with insecurity and anger. "I never know which Draco is the act; the one you are with me, or the one you are with your little _friends_."

"Don't call them my friends," he growls. "I'm fucking warning you, Granger."

"Threatening me won't help your situation with me at all," she says, her voice still quivering, but the pitch growing higher. "You're just proving that I'm right."

"Don't you want to be right?" he jeers, taking three steps closer to her. They are only three feet apart now. "Isn't that what you always want, Granger, to be right?"

"Fuck off! You value your pride much more than I value mine," she hisses, narrowing her eyes. "And if you must know, I _don't_ want to be right. Not on this, and not with you. If you think I want you to be a heartless Death Eater like your father, I'll probably wonder if you've been Imperiused."

His eyes soften, and he purses his lip in thought. "Granger-

"Is Snape a Death Eater?" Hermione questions, somewhat appalled. "I'll report him to Dumbledore if he is and I won't even be the slightest bit sorry about it."

"Don't," Draco replies firmly. "He knows that someone was there, and if you were to mysteriously find out that he was a Death Eater right after that whole incident he would know. And he wouldn't hesitate to tell my aunt."

"But Dumbledore needs to know," Hermione counters. "What if Snape does something to Harry?"

"Well wouldn't that be a shame," Draco mutters, smirking. Hermione swats his shoulder. "I mean, that would obviously be a tragic loss to the Wizarding World."

"You're pushing it," she replies, narrowing her eyes in warning.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he dismisses, his smirk turning into a smile then. They were back to their usual banter, and he is happy with that. "I know how you get about the Chosen Git."

She debates saying something in defense of Harry, but then decides that would be admitting that Draco is right. He would never let her live it down. "I get that way about you, too," she admits, blushing slightly. "I defend you whenever Harry and Ron have a go at you."

His grey eyes soften slightly, and he steps forward and rests his hand on her forearm. They are only a foot apart now, and it's driving him mad with anticipation. He isn't sure when he began moving closer to her, but he had somehow gravitated in the course of their conversation. "I don't understand what you see in me, Granger."

"I don't either," she chuckles, and he grins. "You're an arse half the time and you're extremely temperamental. Not to mention that you're a Death Eater and I'm Harry Potter's best friend. Plus I'm Muggleborn."

"That doesn't matter to me anymore," he murmurs, moving so close to her that she can feel his body heat, but not his skin. It is tantalizing to her. "Well, it doesn't when I'm not being an arse."

She huffs a laugh and looks up to meet his gaze. "And when does _that_ ever happen?"

He flashes her a small smile, then his lips part slightly and he rests his hands on her cheeks, cupping her face and pulling her mouth to his. This is the most emotional and earnest kisses he has ever experienced, and it makes him forget every trouble he has going on. There is no intent behind it, no lust, just a kiss to show affection; the kind of kisses he had formerly only heard Pansy drone on about with her obnoxious and giggly friends. But he felt it now, and for once, he agreed with Pansy on something.

He deepens their kiss and rests his hands on her hips, pulling her pelvis to his. The only sound in the room is the sound of their mouths moving in sync with each other. She is drowning in his scent, his being, and the feeling of adoration that makes her feel like she's floating. She wishes he was always like this, but there is too much wrong in their situation for him to not push her away again after this. She pushes that thought to the back of her mind and wraps her arm around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

He is trying not to grow aroused by her, to keep this moment sweet, but it is near impossible. She bites down on his lip, and he lets out a soft moan despite himself. She does it again, and he grinds his pelvis against hers. She is the one to moan then, and she pulls him closer to her, breaking their kiss to let out a moan again when he repeats the motion. He pushes her up against the wall, meeting her mouth with his again.

"Draco," she murmurs against his lips, just because she wants to say his name. He wants to bask in the at that he is doing this to her.

But the thought is cut short when the portrait hole begins to open, and they practically jump apart. The scene looks suspicious anyways; their swollen lips, their overall disarray and how heavy they are breathing are all something one could raise an eyebrow at. They are still in close proximity, after all, and Draco's trousers can't hide his erection.

Hermione looks anxiously to who is walking into the room and is rather relieved when it is Harry, though there will be inevitable questions later. She was not caught in the act, but she was caught in the scene of an implied act.

Harry raises his eyebrows, scanning both of their appearances up and down. "Hello, Hermione," he says after a few moments, not acknowledging Draco.

"H-Harry," she replies, blushing crimson. "I-I was... We-

"Oh shut up, Granger," Draco sends a gaze her way telling her that he is going to do the acting here. "I was just coming in here to bother her."

Hermione bites her lip and shakes her head at the ceiling. If even Draco can't cover this up, no one can. "He was... yeah. He was calling me a Mudblood."

"In the Prefect's Bathroom?"

Hermione's cheeks are as bright as Ron's hair now. She knows exactly how this looks; two students in the Prefect's Bathroom at the same time with the grand bathtub filled and ready. It looks as though they met here to shag; a thought that she would usually welcome, but in this situation, it didn't help her at all.

"Alright, well I've got to bathe so I'd prefer if you two continued erh - _taunting_ each other somewhere else."

Hermione nods at Harry, mortified and she slips through the portrait hole, Draco behind her. She wants to run back to her common room and hide, though no one is even currently in the corridor besides herself and Draco. She turns to walk towards her common room when he catches her by surprise, pushing her up against the wall again and kissing her again.

She pushes him away from her once she remembers that they had just almost been caught for the second time in three days. He looks at her, confusion apparent in his lust-hazed eyes. "We can't," she sighs, stepping out of his grip. "Not here."

"Granger-

"Now isn't the time," she insists. "We've almost been caught twice this week. We're have got to be more careful."

"What if I don't care?" Draco asks in a husky tone.

"I - Well that doesn't change things regardless and-

He interrupts her, meeting her mouth with his own with an urgency she hadn't experienced in a kiss with anyone. Her kisses with Viktor were never like this; these kisses bring out a lustful hunger she didn't know she had, and they make her body tingle pleasantly. So just this once, she gives it to him, snogging him until both of their lips are too sore to continue and bidding him a good night.

::

"Ginny, honestly, I swear it's what I saw," Harry insists over breakfast in a low tone of voice. "They had obviously been snogging. You could just tell by their demeanors. They were acting oddly, and Hermione's lips were all bruised. They still are, actually."

Ginny snorts in feigned disbelief. "Honestly, Harry, that's a theory worthy of Ronald. Hermione would never snog Draco Malfoy."

"But you said she's been seeing someone and-

"Actually, I didn't say she has been seeing anyone," Ginny replies. "I told Ron to get out of her business, that's all."

"It was implied in the way you said it-

"Look, I know you're being hunted by Voldemort and everything," Ginny pauses, thinking of the most effective way to soothe his qualms. She knows that if Harry thinks something is off, Ron's going to find out, and she needs to stop it before it happens. If Ron found out about Draco and Hermione, everyone in the school would know within fifteen minutes. Ron would go tell everyone in a jealous rage, and the gossip would spread like wildfire. "But you need to calm down and stop suspecting every bad thing you could imagine happening is happening."

"Hermione has been spending time with him-

"She's helping him, Harry. She wants to talk to him about his problems. You know how she is, she fights for the rights of house elves; Malfoy is helpless like them, in her eyes."

"He's an arrogant git," Harry mutters in a bitter tone. "He doesn't need any help to feel better about himself."

"You never know until you've been in his shoes," she murmurs. She finds some of the rare courage she has around Harry and takes the opportunity to rest her hand atop his. "Nothing's wrong, Harry, I promise."

He laughs. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

_That was close_, Ginny thinks, breathing a sigh of relief. She looks to Hermione, who is currently eating on the other side of the house table, and sends her a reassuring smile.

Her secret is safe... For now.

::

"You wanted to speak with me, sir?" Draco questions, stepping cautiously into Snape's office. "One of the portraits told me you wanted to."

"Indeed," Snape replies quietly, intertwining his long, bony fingers. "Borgin told me of your little venture to his shop. I assume your mission is going well, then?"

"More smoothly than before," Draco shrugs, taking the seat opposite to Snape's.

"The Vanishing Cabinet was an intelligent idea," Snape compliments. "Your plan is far better than what your father would've thought of had he been here."

"Had he been here, I probably wouldn't have even gotten this mission in the first place. The Dark Lord is doing this out of vengeance."

"One might say that. But you are proving that you are worth far more and of much more use than your father is these days," Snape utters. "The Dark Lord will be quite pleased with your progress. Bella will be as well."

"And my mother?" Draco mumbles, a question he has not yet dared to ask. Snape knows his mother well and speaks with her more than anyone else, perhaps. "How will she feel about my erh - progress as you called it?"

Snape lets out a long breath as though thinking of how to phrase what he is about to say. "Your mother wants you to succeed only so you live, and only so you don't upset Lucius. If she really wanted to follow the Dark Lord and have you do so, she'd have a mark like the rest of them."

"I feel like I'm betraying her with every stride of progress I make," Draco admits. "I don't want to disappoint her."

"You're not disappointing her as long as you live."

Draco shakes his head. "She's afraid when she looks at me now. She's afraid I'll become like my father; I'm beginning to wonder if she already thinks I'm like my father."

"But surely you admire your father?"

"Why the bloody hell would I?" Draco snarls. "He's completely cold-hearted, if he even has a heart at all. My mother and I wouldn't be in this place if it wasn't for him."

"I may be taking this all wrong, Draco," Snape clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "But I take it that you aren't quite as loyal to the Dark Lord as you were before."

Draco says nothing. He simply stares back at his professor, unsure of what else here is to say. There is no point in defending himself to Snape; Snape is just as good at playing a part as he is, so he will know any excuses Draco tries to pull are lies.

"Is this a result of an outside influence?"

"Oh sod off," Draco snaps. "It isn't your business."

"You must confide in someone, Draco-

"I have Theo for that," he interjects in a cold tone.

"I'm here to help you," Snape replies calmly.

"What, so you can go run off and tell the Dark Lord?" Draco inquires in a harsh tone.

"You tell him everything that Dumbledore says."

Snape sighs and massages his temples. He almost debates telling Draco that his loyalty to the Dark Lord had wavered long before, and that his wavering loyalty also have to do with his affections for a Mudblood. If his assumptions are as correct as he thinks, they are very much the same. "Well then, I bid you a good evening, Draco."

Snape lets out a long sigh once the boy has left his office. Somewhere along the line, he had begun to care for his student; and now he's doomed, just like everyone else Snape has ever cared about. Snape thinks of Lily, who had been killed by his own mistake, and then of Albus Dumbledore, his greatest friend, who is currently the center of a plot that will most likely lead to Snape killing him, and lastly, of Draco, who has no chance of coming out of this without having a tainted soul.

He only wishes that Draco would run away from the Mudblood to save himself from the lifetime of agony that he himself has been living in for years. The girl and Draco are different now; he notices small little gestures in class that show this. Every once in a while, she squeezes his hand under the table, or he looks at her with a deep adoration when she isn't looking, or at times when he even places his hand on the small of her back, a subtle gesture, as it is covered by the back of the chair, but not subtle enough for Snape not to notice.

But in the back of his mind, there is a small part of him wants Draco to run just because the feeling that Draco has with his Mudblood is useful. He tells himself that it is entirely for the boy's safety, but somewhere along the line, a small portion of his disapproval had been taken by envy.

::

Hermione's stomach flutters rather unpleasantly as she opens Dumbledore's office. If this situation was in any other circumstance, she wouldn't feel guilty for ratting out a teacher in link with Voldemort. But Draco is at stake with her doing that, and it makes her hate herself with each inch the door moves. When it is fully open, she meets the Headmaster's kind blue eyes and flashes a smile that looks more like a grimace than anything else.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," Dumbledore greets quietly, gesturing to the seat across from his. "Take your seat. Minerva said that there was something important you needed to speak with me about. And what is it that's troubling you?"

"I-I don't really know where to start," Hermione stutters. She is trying to think of a lie so she doesn't have to say that she found out while eavesdropping, invisible, after almost being caught snogging Draco Malfoy of all people. The difficult part is leaving out that Draco is a Death Eater as well, and she figures she will have to make do with whatever panicked lie comes out of her mouth. "I heard Snape talking to Dra - erh - Malfoy, in the hallway after a Potion's lesson, and Snape was.. erh... he was trying to recruit Draco - I mean Malfoy - to join. I mean, him being a prefect and all..."

She trails off when Dumbledore holds up his rather shriveled hand to signal for her to stop talking, and the Professor smiles at her kindly. "There is no need to tell me any of this, Miss Granger. Severus Snape has my complete trust, and I am already aware of Draco Malfoy's involvement in the Death Eaters... and his involvement with you, I might add," Dumbledore says kindly, meeting Hermione's concerned gaze.

"Are you going to send him to Azkaban?" she asks, a deep hole forming in the pit of her stomach at the thought of that.

"If I was, I would have sent him the summer before this term started," Dumbledore replies, smiling at her reassuringly. "I have known for a long while now... I don't believe that Mr. Malfoy is a real threat to anyone in this school. Surely you know what he is being forced to do?"

"He won't tell me that," she fidgets in her seat. She is only slightly more relaxed now, but her nerves are still there. "He thinks that I'll hate him."

"Well, I shouldn't disclose information that isn't mine to share, then," he remarks, obviously deep in thought. "I have already tried reaching out to the boy, but he I'm afraid he won't hear a word I have to say. He directed his anger towards Voldemort at me the last time I tried to reach out to him."

Hermione opens her mouth in reply, but no words come out.

"This is where your... _friendship_ with him is crucial," Dumbledore murmurs. "You need to guide him on the right path."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm afraid I won't turn my friendship with Draco into some sort of mission," Hermione replies rather coolly.

"I wasn't suggesting that. Let me rephrase; you should help him to open up to you, and you should offer him the love that he is lacking. I believe that it will make life a lot easier for him. I am not asking you to get information out of him, or to try to recruit him for the Order, or to give me information on how his progress is; only to lift a burden off a young man's soul."

Hermione smiles weakly and nods, stepping towards the exit from Dumbledore's office. "I'm trying, Professor."

But she breaks down into tears once she is back in her common room, knowing that the burden will only become harder for him to carry now that so many of the Death Eaters are beginning to think he is hiding something; the suspicions that he is seeing a Muggleborn adding to his list of crosses to bear.

There will be no peace for the soul of Draco Malfoy, and the scary part is that she is finding herself in tears over his emotional state. She is worried she is starting to care too much.

But she has to cry for him.

Someone has to cry for Draco Malfoy, because Draco Malfoy has too much pride to cry for himself.

::

**Author's Note**

Wow, I suck. It's been years since I've updated. I can explain (well, sort of).

I missed a lot of days in school in my term and with finals, I had to focus a lot on getting my grades back up. I was really stressed out and my mind was kind of all over the place. Part of it was slacking, though, and I apologize for that. Yikes. I had really bad writer's block, too, which didn't really help me with anything, as I had to write an essay for one of my finals. I hope all of you 92 beautiful followers can forgive me for my terrible slowness. The 46 of you that have this story in your favorites (wow, exactly half of the followers) I'm even more sorry to you as you're more into the story than others. And part of my slowness was due to my constant revision and editing of this chapter. I added and removed scenes so many times I lost count.

I'M ON SUMMER VACATION NOW SO I'LL UPDATE A LOT MORE! Well, if nothing comes up. But who am I kidding, nothing will. I have no life.

This chapter is the longest one yet if that helps with anything... haha.

Again I'm so sorry I love all of you I feel like I let you guys down wow but yeah SORRY!


	12. More

Chapter XII - More

Theo stumbles into the common room, barely capable of walking. He smells of firewhiskey and sweat, assuredly from sleeping with Parvati Patil. Though Theo has made a habit of it over the past few months, Draco knows that it is nothing but a release for both of them.

He knows because Theo doesn't act happier when he returns from seeing her. He doesn't lose all of his vocabulary. His eyes don't drift her way in class. Theo doesn't do that, or any of the stuff Draco does with Granger.

Theo is not exclusive with Patil, and he does not have feelings for her. He claims he does when he has had one too many bottles of Ogden's, but he usually passes out shortly after the statement and Draco knows not to think too much of it.

"Her eyes... Dark like dragon scales," Theo slurs.

Draco laughs outright.

::

He is acting more oddly than Hermione has ever seen him act, particularly with her. He won't sit on the same side of the room as her, and is always on the furthest edge of the opposite side. She is hopeful when he sits behind her exactly a week following the Snape episode.

But all the excitement she feels quickly fades, even before class begins, when she greets him with a simple hello. He is beside Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and of course, Theo.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Mudblood?" he snarls, loud enough so Snape can here.

"Don't call me a Mudblood, Malfoy," she replies coolly. "You weren't so offended by my blood last week when-

"One. More. Fucking. Word," he hisses darkly. She stands up and turns around to face him. "Don't you fucking _dare_, Granger."

She slams her hands on his desk and is in his face, the way he often is with her. "Well one more time of you calling me a Mudblood and I will. I promise you that."

She won't. She knows that it is her rage speaking. She would be endangering his life if she did that, and whether she likes it or not she cares too much to put him at risk for being tortured or killed.

He clenches his jaw and motions to her seat. "Well you're trying my patience, so if you want me to refrain from calling you a Mudblood, you're going to have to take a fucking seat."

They glare at each other for a few long tense seconds before she takes a step back. "Fine. I don't want to be in your presence, anyways."

"Right," he drawls, feigning a yawn. "If anything, I wouldn't want to be within two feet of your filth and-

"Draco," Theo murmurs, low enough so only he can hear. "Don't say anything you'll regret."

"Don't tell me what to do," he dismisses his friend's suggestion. "I'll say anything I want to say to that thing."

"What is going on over there?" Snape bellows. "Class is about to start! Granger! Ten points from Gryffindor for picking fights with your classmates."

She is enraged. So much so that she wants to shout, and cry, and slap Malfoy all at the same time. She doesn't know how he can act as though nothing had happened between them. She doesn't know how he can refer to her as a thing after kissing her like she was the only thing in his world. But he does anyways.

Because while heartless she knows he is not, his heart is still made of stone.

::

Snape has asked for another word after class, and Draco can hear his heart pounding in his ears. One wrong word and Bellatrix could hear everything that's been going on.

"So, do inform me what happened last week, Draco," Snape leers at him. "I believe it was last week that I found you in the library? Surely you weren't off with Miss Granger?"

"If I was, you wouldn't want to be throwing that around," Draco counters. "You're kissing your own life goodbye if you were to."

Snape raises his eyebrows, impressed. "Touche."

"Now I have to go to Transfiguration, so I'll see you around," Draco says simply, picking up his stuff and leaving before Snape can say another word.

::

He hates Transfiguration. He has no way to avoid her there, which makes it far harder than it needs to be for him.

"Disappointed, Malfoy?" she asks under her breath as McGonagall is teaching, glaring at him. "You can't scurry away from me in here."

"You have no idea," he mumbles back.

"Oh yeah, I do," she agrees, venom in her words. "It must be so difficult for you to be in the presence of a thing."

"Exactly."

"Well that's another reason for you to go hide away in self pity, isn't it? Merlin knows that that's all you ever do anymore."

"Detention for talking, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy," McGonagall barks, pointing her finger at them from the front of the classroom. "You'll serve your detention Friday evening. Another word and I'll assign you more detention for every day of Easter holiday."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione says weakly.

"I'm not," he mutters, chuckling under his breath.

She grits her teeth and glares at him with the ferocity of a lion for the rest of the class period.

::

Theo walks into their dormitory a while after dinner, and Draco looks up from his homework and greets him. "Hey mate."

"Why are you treating Granger like a fucking house elf?"

"You know you could do with being a little more blunt, Theo," Draco rolls his eyes. "And she'll hex you if she hears you say that."

"She looked like she wanted to murder you in Transfiguration," Theo states matter-of-factly. "She didn't take her eyes off you."

"Per usual," the blonde replies smugly.

"And not in the way she usually can't take her eyes off of you," Theo adds.

"Good for her," Draco shrugs, staring at his fingernails. "I don't really care about why Granger's eyes are wandering in my direction."

"What happened?"

"I realized that I was a fucking idiot for even snogging her in the first place, and that she's filthy and-

"Really?" Theo raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, really. She's a waste of magic, and frankly a waste of space all together."

"Whatever you say," Theo snorts. "Well, I'm going to tell her that, because you're too much of a coward to tell her why yourself, and because she's been crying in Myrtle's bathroom ever since you compare her to a troll in Potions."

Draco is glad that he isn't facing his friend, because he can't help but wince at that thought.

::

She feels stupid crying over _Malfoy._

It certainly isn't the first time she is crying over him. She has cried over him for years, and especially this year. She can't help but cry over him. He has always pulled extreme emotional responses from her, regardless of whether she hated him or not

And that's what bothers her most. She cares about him perhaps more than anyone else, and he can just drop her whenever he feels like it without even being hurt by it. He treats her like he did in the years before, only it hurts her so much more than it did before he had become so emotionally invested in this... this _thing._

"Well, well, well," she hears the voice of Theodore Nott drawl. "Moaning Myrtle seems to have been resurrected."

She turns around and glares at him. "Have you come to taunt me, too?"

"You're not helping yourself. Now you sound even more like her."

She picks up of her paperweights and hurls it at him from across the room, but he ducks and it hits the wall with a crash.

"Relax, Granger."

"Don't tell me to relax! You are the last person I want to see," she hisses. "Well, besides your fucking pal Malfoy."

"I don't know what's gotten into him."

She laughs coldly. "What's gotten into him? This is just who he is! He's finally showing his true colors!"

"He doesn't hate you, Hermione," Theo sighs, meeting her gaze. "If I can call you that, I mean."

"Draco doesn't even have the courage to do that!" she exclaims. "You'd think after he snogged me he might call me by my first name, but no, 'Granger' is what I get; or his favorite, Mudblood."

"Are you drunk?" Theo furrows his brow.

Hermione arches an eyebrow. "Remember that you're talking to Hermione Granger and not your best friend. I don't drink."

"Oh," Theo clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Right. You just... Draco acts like this when he's drunk."

"Oh lovely to know he has some form of emotion somewhere down there! Though he doesn't seem to know that other people have it too! But I'm not a person, right? I'm a Mudblood and I resemble a troll!"

"He doesn't really think you look like a troll," Theo counters. "For one, you're pretty hot, to be frank, Hermione; and for another, he wouldn't whack himself off to you if he thought you looked like a troll."

Hermione wrinkles her nose. "You are so crude. Both of you are, really. How do you know what he thinks of when he - well, you know - anyways?"

"Us men are much more open about such things," Theo explains.

"It's gross," she groans.

"Yeah, maybe," Theo shrugs. "But I didn't come here to talk about that. I came here to talk about Draco."

"Draco is the last thing I want to talk about."

"Oh, really?" Theo raises his eyebrows.

Hermione huffs out a breath in exasperation. "Yes, really! He's a - he's a self-righteous git who has no respect for anyone but himself!"

"No need to state the obvious," he chuckles because he knows this is exactly what Draco is. "But we have to love him anyways."

"I don't love him."

"Well I wasn't going to say we have to tolerate them. We like him a little more than that, right? In different ways, of course. I don't snog him or gush about how handsome he is or-

"I don't gush about how handsome he is," Hermione blushes. _Except to Ginny_, she adds internally.

Theo smirks. "Outloud."

Hermione narrows her eyes at the Slytherin, because he is just like Draco. He always has the clever and true response that leaves you with nothing to defend yourself with.

"Well, get to the point."

That is so far the one difference between the two she has seen. Draco is very direct and states what's on his mind to start off a conversation rather than after minutes of conversation going on.

"He says you're a waste of magic, and a waste of space," Theo announces plainly.

"Oh fucking great," she groans. "You sure know how to make me feel better! That's all you came in for?"

"No, I came in here to tell you that he doesn't mean it and all you have to do is ignore it and perhaps be a little friendly with Weasel King and he'll snap out of it and get back to snogging you."

"I will _not_ make him jealous," she puts her hands on her hips.

"Of course, Gryffindors," he sighs. "How ever could I forget? Using such a low blow is practically worth an Azkaban sentence to you."  
"You're more irritating than him, you know."

"Well, that's good, because I'm going to bed and you won't have to be plagued with my presence anymore. See you round, Granger."

::

Her eyes are swollen and red at breakfast the next morning, and when she is asked by Harry she says she simply has allergies. She hates how her eyes do that after she is crying, and Ginny catches her eye reassuringly, telling her telepathically that it will all be okay, eventually.

"Pass the french toast," Ron says through his already full mouth.

Hermione almost lets Harry do it, but then he remembers what Theo had told her and smiles at Ron as she hands it to him. Then she smiles smugly and looks over at Malfoy, who is already glaring at her and clenching his jaw.

::

She feels so wrong doing this, using Ron to make him jealous. It is so unlike her and it is so Slytherin. But she is proud during Potions as she stands beside him, smirking.

"Why are you so happy, Granger?" he sneers, still not looking at her.

"Things don't have feelings," she replies tonelessly. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"Fuck off," he growls, meeting her eyes now. His grey eyes are even colder than usual, and the depth of them is larger than ever. They look the way they do when he is stressed, and she wonders if that's why he's acted so cruelly towards her.

But then she remembers it's Draco Malfoy, and he'll be cruel whenever he feels like it, not just when he is stressed.

"You're the one who began speaking to me."

"Yeah, because you're probably plotting my demise with the smirk you've been throwing me all day!" he raises his eyebrows.

"You're not worth a plot, trust me."

He licks his teeth and shoots a look at her she cannot read. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Malfoy. Because I, unlike _you_, don't lie through my teeth to people I once cared about."

"Once cared about?" he can't conceal the hurt in his eyes, and she sees it.

She reminds herself that he deserves it, because he is the reason her eyes are still swollen today. "How does it feel, Malfoy?"

"Satisfying."

But if even if he is satisfied, his demeanor is still brooding and angry for the rest of Potions.

::

He receives news through Snape that his mother has been tortured by Bellatrix and is recovering in St. Mungo's. He kicks his nightstand so hard that all the items on it drop with a clatter.

::

She doesn't know what drives her to the edge, but in the corridor after dinner as Malfoy passes her, she kisses Ronald. It is awkward, fake, and rushed, but she had cracked. She isn't aware of her actions until she pulls away, and he smirks at her. "Needed it that bad, 'Mione?"

She blushes a hot red and rushes after Draco, who had suddenly stormed angrily in the opposite direction. She pushes through the sea of students and makes her way to Myrtle's bathroom, where she had seen him turn the corner and disappear into their normal meeting place. Maybe he had wanted her to chase him.

She enters the room and she doesn't even have time to greet him before he turns himself around, meets her eyes and shouts at her.

"Go away, you fucking Mudblood whore," he seethes.

"Draco-

"Don't fucking use my first name!" he demands, stepping towards her and pointing one of his long, slender fingers down at her. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who you are? I was chosen to bear the mark!"

"Draco-

"What the fuck did I just say, Mudblood?" he yells. "What the bloody hell did I just say?"

She is actually frightened of him now. She has never seen him like this. She is quite sure that something else has happened, because she has made him angry before without him being this out of control. He looks as though he is insane; his face red, the tendons in his neck jutting out from his skin and his jaw clenched so tight it looks as though it might break.

"Draco," she murmurs, resting her hand on his forearm. He swats her hand away. "Draco-

"Don't fucking touch me."

"You weren't saying a few days ago, if I-

"SHUT UP!" he screams. "I don't want to fucking talk to you! You're nothing but a Mudblood to me! You're the dirt beneath my feet!"

"Is that why you were so angry when I snogged Ronald?"

He glares furiously at her for a long silent moment. "I don't give a damn who you snog," he manages to say, but she can tell this is a lie. She is beginning to grow better at reading him. His voice is always deep, cool and collected when he lies.

"Mhm," she is sure she looks as amused as she feels.

"You fucking wish, Granger. You - you fucking _bitch_."

She laughs then. She isn't sure what made her laugh, as the situation isn't funny at all. Perhaps it is just such a simple and mundane comeback coming from a man that is usually witty, or the way it sounded with the drawl his voice naturally had.

He arches an eyebrow, and she can tell he is trying not to smile. "You've gone mad," he murmurs in a tone so soft it is uncomparable to the way he was shouting just moments before. "I should've seen it coming."

She steps forwards towards him and wraps her arms tightly around his waist. She is crying a little, though she isn't sure why, perhaps she is just happy to be talking to him at all. She is sure he'll shove her away, but as she waits for him to, it never comes. He wraps his arms around her in return instead, because Hermione Granger has become his biggest weakness, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"It was your fault," she accuses weakly. "You were the one that called me all those dreadful things and kept me on my toes and-

"I always keep you on your toes, Granger," he huffs a laugh.

She wraps her arms around his neck and tries to pull him in so he can kiss her, but he doesn't shift at all. She frowns.

"You just snogged Weasley, Granger. You've... I know you fancy him more than you could ever fancy me. Though why, I'm not sure. Both my talent, in all areas, I might add, and my charm outstands his own."

"I haven't fancied him since I started speaking to you," she confesses. He snorts in skepticism and she widens her eyes so he can see in them that she is honest. "I... _youmeanmoretomethananyoneelse_."

It all comes out in one word, because she didn't even know she was going to say this. It had just... came out of her.

"Yes, ruining my life does mean alot to you," he drawls, but his lips are upturned at the corners as though he is trying to fight back a smile.

She almost asks him why he had avoided such a strong statement, but then she remembers that they aren't supposed to say anything like that. Then she is fine with him avoiding the statement, because she hadn't really meant to say it in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he mumbles.

"I thought you didn't apologize."

"Well I guess you are an... exception there, and well, other places too," he mutters. "But... I really am sorry."

"Enough to use my first name."

He hums in thought. "I did, didn't I?"

"I like it," she admits quietly, because he had once said the same to her, so she has every right to say it right back.

He licks his lips in thought before resting his hands on the small of her back and pulling her towards him. He licks his lips again for an entirely different reason before meeting her lips with his own.

It is a delicate kiss, and it is barely there at all before it is gone, but she won't let him go that easily, so she pulls his head down so his forehead is touching hers and kisses him lightly again. She is the one to break the kiss this time, just so she can meet his eyes and then he is kissing her with such urgency that she doesn't know if he'll ever stop. Not that she would mind that, really.

It is fast, passionate, and intense, but not rough like some of their kisses. She flicks her tongue along the underside of his lip and he lets out a soft moan before retaliating. He kisses down her neck and trails his tongue over her throat, and she finds herself whispering words that she doesn't really know or understand.

She feels somewhat brave now, and she rubs her hand over his pants right where she can feel his arousal tenting. He lets out a growl, and she does it again, and again, until he is panting. "Fucking tease," he rasps before he picks her up and wraps her legs around his waist, and she feels them moving before her back hits the wall.

She is nervous when she feels his hand making it's way down her stomach and skimming the waistband of the pants she always changed into after a long day. But he is too quick for her to be nervous, and she reacts so strongly to the first swipe of his thumb against her clit that she will without doubt be embarrassed later. She throws her head back against the wall and a moan sounds through the room that she at first doesn't recognize it is her own.

"So. Fucking. _Hot_," she hears him whisper through his panting. He inserts one finger into her, and then another, and when he curls his fingers another moan slips past her lips. "Fuck, Granger."

She bucks her hips up against his fingers when he hits a particularly sensitive spot that makes her womb clench. "Draco," she hears herself breathe.

He kisses her then, and she is grateful because her emotions are racing. She can slowly feel herself unraveling in a way she didn't know she was capable of unravelling. And then she is gone, and there is only him and this new level of euphoria that she is experiencing. She hears a loud cry come past her throat and even when she is back to reality, he is kissing her all over.

They snog for a while until she is completely elated, and he kisses her goodnight before they silently go their separate ways and go to their dormitories.

Both of them find no sleep that night.

::

She feels a blush creep up on her cheeks the moment she sits next to him in Transfiguration. She tries to think of something to someone that has just hours before seen her so undone. "Hi" comes out before she can stop it.

He smirks and arches a brow. "Hi?"

"Shut up," she whispers, because McGonagall has just entered the room. She swats his arm lightly and he steps on her foot in return. She curses. "Mine didn't actually hurt you you git!"

"You deserved it," he mutters, silent laughter shaking his shoulders.

"Did n-

"Mr. Malfoy, go sit out in the hall, please," McGonagall commands curtly. "I will come get you whenever I please. Twenty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"But she was talking too!"  
"Out!" the professor barks.

Hermione is smirking for the rest of the class period.

::

Hermione can't help but gawk at him in Herbology, just because of how beautiful he is. She barely registers that Harry is talking to her, and has been for a few minutes. "Oh I-I," she stutters. Draco meets her gaze and smirks at her, and she glares back. Harry seems to notice the eye contact, so she reluctantly looks away after a moment. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying that you need to stop talking to Malfoy so much in Transfiguration," Harry sighs and glares at Malfoy. "You're going to cost us the house cup."

"He irritates me!" she counters, and it is not entirely a lie. "That's why I speak with him! He pushes my buttons!"

"Sure," Harry replies skeptically.

"Why is everyone so quick to assume that there's something up between me and Draco?"

"Well for starters, you're calling him by his first name," he points out. "And something is up between you and Malfoy. I saw you two, and I see it every day in class. You two are snogging in private."

"You didn't see us actually snogging! Draco - erh wait - Malfoy followed me in there to annoy me," she blushes because she has always been a horrible liar.

"He followed you into the Prefect's bathroom," he raises his eyebrows. "For some reason that doesn't add up."

And then Draco is strutting towards them, arrogant as ever, and Hermione buries her face in her hands. "Mind your business, Potter," Draco smirks.

"It became my business the moment you started speaking to my best friend."

"How noble of you," Draco drawls. "All of you Gryffindors are so righteous. You're doing her such a favor by defending her against evil Slytherins like myself."

"Go back to your little cronies, Malfoy," Harry says coolly. "They're waiting for you over there."

Draco leaves, and Hermione is still shaking her head when he is gone. "Could there be a more awkward situation?" she mumbles.

"On another note, I heard you snogged Ron," Harry remarks. "Are you two going to become an item?"

"I don't think of him that way."

"Did that snog have something to do with Malfoy?"

"Honestly, Harry, not everything revolves around Malfoy," she snaps. She needs to remind him this, because he has grown far too obsessive over Draco, and she doesn't want Harry to discover anything about Draco's life.

Harry drops the subject then and returns to assisting Hermione with the task of wresting one of the Tentacula.

::

She yelps when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her from behind. She knows it is Draco, but she was previously so absorbed in looking through the library shelves that she forgot reality.

"Relax, Granger," he murmurs, pressing his lips against her neck. "It's only me. Though I hope you'd know that."

"I do," she says. "But that doesn't stop me from being startled or the fact that we are in the library and there are dozens of other students just a row of books away."

"Live a little," he shrugs, and she knows this because she feels his shoulders do so and hears the clothing of his shirt move.

"You're the one who was avoiding me for ages so we wouldn't get discover-

"Times change," he huffs a laugh against the skin of her neck, and she shivers.

"In a week?" she responds, but she knows he can hear the smile in her voice. He chuckles, and her grin grows wider.

"Why not?"

She turns around in his arm and rests her forehead against his. "You are so arrogant, and so irritating."

"And so charming," he adds.

She snorts before feathering a light kiss on his lips. "The master of charms," she murmurs, resting her hands on his shoulder blades and pulling him in or another kiss. She can already feel her pulse speeding up, and she thinks she is too easily affected until his eyes have that telltale darkness to them.

"Sorry to interrupt," she hears a female voice say.

She jumps back, but then bumps into the bookcase. At least ten books crash to the floor, and she looks over and feels a sense of relief that it's Ginny. "You're not sorry," Hermione replies, grinning shyly.

"Yeah, not really," Ginny agrees, looking to Malfoy's hands which are still rested on Hermione's hips. "But I need a book from this isle, and perhaps other people do as well so you might want to go somewhere more private."

"Erh - right," Hermione blushes, her cheeks as red as Ginny's hair.

Draco gestures towards the exit of the library, pins her against the wall of the empty corridor and presses his lips against hers. "Weaselette knows?" he murmurs against her lips.

She hums. "Mhm."

She kisses him one last time before ducking under his arm to escape his grasp. "I should get to bed."

"We'll have plenty of time in detention," he smirks at her, a devious twinkle in his eyes. "Goodnight, Granger."

"Goodnight," she whispers.

Later, she stays up late wondering what she has gotten herself into.

::

Author's Note

Wow I actually suck at updating quickly and I used to be a pro at that. I'm not making excuses for myself now Oh well. Once a month will probably be my normal time between updates now, I guess. Well, thank you for reading!


	13. Bridges

**Chapter** **XIII** - **Bridges**

Everyone is whispering on Friday morning of Dementor attacks, more Muggle torture and Voldemort's insiders in the Ministry. She hears everyone debating different things. Who'll be murdered next, who's safe, who are all the Death Eaters, when the war will start.  
But both Hermione and Draco are all too aware that the war has already started. Draco leaves the Great Hall before he even finishes his breakfast.

He is glad that he has a free period after breakfast that morning. He thinks that if that wasn't the case, he would end up hexing the next person talking about good and evil and when the war will begin.

Theo enters the dormitory after him, walking in just as Draco does a nonverbal spell to shatter his lamp. He often breaks things when he's angry, and he can't recall being this angry in a long time. He thinks his words will come out as shouting, but instead they come out in a deadly mumbling tone. "Those fools think they're suffering."

"I know," Theo agrees bitterly.

"When do you think the war's going to start?" Draco sneers, mocking the question everyone was whispering at breakfast. "The war has already started. It did in fourth year before the Chosen Git even knew about it. Did you hear the fucking Gryffindors talking about our house? 'At least the Slytherins have it easy.'"

"We have to put up with more shit than any of them do," Theo nods. "They just think they put up with the most because they have Potter. They just think we're evil."  
"Some of us are," Draco says softly. "But it's never really that simple. Most of us have both inside of us. Everyone in our house was raised to dwell on the evil, that's all. That's why everyone has more evil; we took it in ever since our first breath."

"And you?"

"There's a constant battle of light and darkness in my head," Draco sighs a heavy sigh. "I don't know how much longer I can take it."

"I don't, either."

::

Hermione smiles at him as she takes her seat beside him in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She thinks he might be angry, because he scowls at her and then at Snape when he looks Draco's way. But then he smirks at her in reply and rests his hand between the small of her back and her chair, only having the nerve because they are in the back row.

She thinks she is becoming far too affected by him. She knows he knows it, too. She zones out staring at him during Snape's lecture on Dark Magic when she thinks he doesn't notice, but he turns his head slightly to smirk at her again and runs a circle on her back with his thumb. He gestures to the page in front of her with his free hand, and she then realizes that she hasn't written any notes the whole class period. He smirks at her and arches an eyebrow.

"You're distracting," she mumbles.

::

Draco pins her up against the wall of the nearest empty corridor as they're supposed to be going to Herbology, despite her protests. There is something about the way she was looking at him just minutes before in DADA makes him have a need to mark her as his own, and to devour her.

"Draco, we have to g-" she trails off and whimpers when he sucks on the most sensitive part of her throat. He arches an eyebrow and flashes his signature cocky grin. "We have to go to Herbology."

"Fuck Herbology," he mutters, pressing his lips to her neck again. "You couldn't take your eyes off me back there."

"Regardless, we have to go to class or people are going to wonder where we are, not to mention that we are both Prefects and that we can't miss it. It might be important."

"Yeah, well I can't miss devouring you in the most delicious ways possible either," he eyes her in a way that makes her feel like giving in.

She shakes her head, managing to stop herself by being seduced by him now. "We have to go."

He rolls his eyes and steps back. "You're no fun, Granger."

She huffs a laugh. "You're just too reckless."

He hums and then releases her, taking a step back. "You're going to be the death of me," he sighs. "Off to herbology, then."

::

"What's up with you and Malfoy?" Harry inquires in Herbology.

"Oh for the love of God, you're still on that, Harry?" she groans. "Honestly. Nothing's going on with Malfoy and I."

"I know there's something between you two," Harry mumbles.

"What do you mean by something?"

"I mean that you and Malfoy are-

"What are we, Harry?" she scoffs. "Do you think we're secret lovers or something? We're friends, or something like that, anyways."

"For some reason, I have a hard time believing that Malfoy has a female friend."

And Hermione knows he is right with what he says. She has always heard about Malfoy's exploits with various girls in her year, and a few girls in younger years. He has a long trail of women that he's bedded, and she thinks Harry's defense is quite justified.

"Well he does now," she mutters rather weakly.

"I don't think you should fancy him, Hermione," Harry sighs. She arches an eyebrow and he laughs in reply. "Oh, come on, you think I don't know? Everyone in Gryffindor knows by now. You aren't exactly discreet about it."

"I-I don't-

"Listen, he's bad news," Harry states firmly. "He's probably involved with You-Know-Who and he's got it out for you. You're Muggleborn, he'll try to hurt you... or maybe even worse than hurt."

"You think he wants to kill me because I'm Muggleborn?" she snaps.

"He wished you dead in second year! It's not like he's changed. There's not even a spell that could cure his prejudices."

"That was in second year!" she replies. "He's changed since then."

"Why are you so defensive of him if there's nothing between the two of you?"

"Because Draco is my _friend_," she emphasizes the word. "And I defend my friends no matter what."

"I'm going to figure what's going on between you and Malfoy no matter what, Hermione and-"

"What about Hermione and Malfoy?" Ron questions, so angry that he drops he Bubotuber in his hands, splattering puss on himself. He curses.

"Go to the hospital wing, Weasley," Professor Sprout says impassively from the other side of the greenhouse. "You can take him there, Potter."

Hermione looks anxiously over at Draco for the rest of Herbology.

::

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione hisses. "How the bloody hell am I supposed to turn this needle into a kitten?"

Draco flicks his wand lazily at his own needle, which in a second becomes a grey tabby kitten, and then is back to the needle at another easy flick. "Like that, I think," he smirks.

"No one asked you, Malfoy," she groans in frustration. "I can't do it! I only get it half the time and that's just by sheer luck!"

"Well, at least you aren't as bad as Weasley," Draco gestures over to Ron, whose desk has somehow caught fire.

"Mr. Weasley, put that out, and stay in during your free period so I can assist you," Professor McGonagall directs in an exasperated tone.

Hermione giggles, and Draco responds with a grin and trails his fingers lightly down her arm. "I believe you just giggled at me, Granger."

She blushes. "I did not!"

"You did."

"Mrs. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, I would concentrate on your own work unless you want your detention tonight to last until tomorrow morning."

::

After class, McGonagall pulls them aside to say, "After dinner, your detention will begin. I'll keep you as late as I please. You'll be sorting file cabinets and washing desks."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replies.

Draco only glares at McGonagall, and the minute they leave and shut the door behind them he mutters, "Old hag."

"Draco," Hermione rolls her eyes. "In all honesty, you can't say we're not deserving of it after all the trouble we have caused in her class."

"Noble as ever, Granger," he smirks. "But you can't possibly say we couldn't have better things to do."

She arches an eyebrow. "Like?"

"Come with me to the Prefect's bathroom during our free period and I'll show you."

She blushes crimson. "Draco I-I can't do that! I -

It is his turn to roll his eyes, and he looks around the corridor to make sure it is empty before pressing his lips to her forehead. "Save it, Granger. After all, I do know you fairly well by now."

"It's not that I..." she trails off and swallows. She is nervous to say her reasonings aloud. "It's not that I don't w-want to. But you will discard me if we ever-

"Shag, yeah," Draco sighs. "I wish I could tell you for sure that I wouldn't."

"Then why can't you follow through?"

"There are many things I can't follow through with, Granger," he bites his lip. "I can't promise you that my feelings will remain stable day in and day out because I'm in a constant state of limbo between right and wrong, good and evil... prejudice or no prejudice."

"I just... I-I like you, Draco. I don't understand why you can just discard things between us like they're nothing."

"I'm a Slytherin. I'm a good actor," he says. "If you want someone who is good with feelings, you're not finding one here. If you want a good man, you're not finding that here, either."

"You want to be one."

"What?"

"A good man."

He remains silent for a moment, telling her that she is correct.

"If you want to be one, why can't you just do it?" she shakes her head at the stupidity of her words. He snorts. "I mean, not right away, of course. But I'm willing to help you. Dumbledore is willing-

"Don't bring that old fool into this."

She scowls and puts her hands on her hips, stopping in the middle of the crowded corridor to glare at him. He stops as well. "You are the most irritating person I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"Yeah, I hate you too, Granger," he rolls his eyes. "Well, if you'd excuse me, I have Charms. And I believe you have Muggle Studies."

"Don't mock me in that way."

"Try not to let your PMS get to you tonight, Granger," he smirks. "Even if you do, I'm going to snog you regardless."

"Go for it if you want your balls hexed off."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you," he licks his lips, which makes her completely forget she's angry at him for a moment. "I like it. See you later."

::

Hermione is still irritated with him when she arrives in detention, so she takes a seat across the room from him as McGonagall delivers them instruction.

"You will be sorting all the essays from your class from every year of school. I keep records so I know how well I am teaching. You will also be washing the desks. You'll be doing all of this without magic. I left the cabinets I want sorted in the area in which I teach, and there are rags, water and soap in the back of the room."

"Try torturing," Draco groans. "You're doing quite well at that."

The professor ignores him and leaves the room without another word.

"You're still all pissed off, aren't you, Granger?" he gets up from his seat and gets one of the wet rags.

"I'm always pissed off at you, Draco," she replies.

He huffs a laugh and looks up from the desk he is washing. "Yeah, you are."

"It's not funny," she whines. "You're an arsehole."

"I would've thought you'd have figured that out before now, Granger," he remarks. "You're a stubborn bitch. We've all got our flaws."

She glares at him and returns to sorting her file cabinets.

An hour passes before either of them say another word, but Draco is the first to break the silence.

"I hate McGonagall," he mutters in a bitter tone. "This is bloody torture."

"Did you expect detention to be an enjoyable experience?" Hermione arches an eyebrow at him. "Besides, this has nothing on our detention in the Forbidden Forest in first year."

"I suppose," he hums, abruptly stopping washing his desk and walking over to her. He is right over her shoulder and trails his hands up her hips. "I can think of some ways to make this less grievous."

She turns around so she is facing him and feathers a light kiss on his cheek. "I'm sure you can."

He closes the distance between them by cupping her cheeks and pressing his lips to hers.

She doesn't think she'll ever quite get used to how good this is. Him ghosting patterns on her sides with his fingertips, trailing his tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, the way she can feel his heartbeat against her own. He makes her completely forget the world outside of the one they had created, no matter what there is going on. She deepens the kiss to vent the strong feelings she harbors for him, and when he follows her in doing so, she forgets they're in a detention at all.  
He picks her up by her legs and wraps them around his waist, cupping her bottom and kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear as he carries her across the room. He pulls away for a moment and sets her down, settling between her legs. He grazes his thumb along her cheekbone and looks at her with an emotion she cannot place.

"Have I ever told you how lovely you are, Granger?"

She presses herself up against him and wraps her arms around his neck to pull him as close as she can. She kisses his neck and sucks on it, quite sure she'll leave a mark as he had done to her so many times. He lets out a soft moan and she feels him grow harder against her. She does it again, pleased with his reaction.

"Keep doing that, Granger, and I'll rip your fucking clothes off," he rasps.

And she does it again, as if to tell him she would welcome that. He groans and cups her over her underwear, trailing a ribbon of kisses down her throat. She is breathing heavy, now craving wherever they're going just as much as he is. She whimpers and clutches onto his back when he inserts two fingers inside her and quivers when she feels the familiar jolt in her womb.

"Look at me," he murmurs, using his free hand to tilt her chin up towards him.

He can see the lust in her eyes, their usual cinnamon slightly darker, and her pupils dilated. They are both panting now, and they both lean in again, resuming their ministrations. She can't help her hips rocking forward now, as he has set a perfect pace with his digits. She moans against his lips, and then moans again with frustration when he removes his fingers.

"You have no idea how bad I want you right now," he says in a low tone that makes a pleasurable tingle go up her spine.

He kisses her as hard as he can, sucking on her bottom lip and trailing his hands over her cloth covered breasts. She doesn't think she's ever needed anything as much as she needs him exactly like this.

They are interrupted when McGonagall clears her throat loudly from the back of the rom, and he pulls his lips away from hers to look at the grouchy, cock-blocking old bat. Hermione turns her head so she is looking at her professor.

"You are not allowed to sit on the desks in my classroom, Miss Granger," McGonagall says sternly, raising her eyebrows. Hermione blushes and hides her face in Draco's chest so that she can at least hide. "And you are certainly not allowed to be kissing, either Particularly when you are in detention."

"I started it," Draco offers in his lover's defense.

"While I respect your nobility, Mister Malfoy, she was obviously reciprocating what you started," McGonagall replies coolly. "Now finish up your work for detention and in the name of Godric Gryffindor snog somewhere outside of my classroom."

Once the head of Gryffindor house exits the room, Hermione shakes her head in mortification before meeting Draco's silver eyes. They are crinkled at the corners because he is laughing, and his dimples are visible in his cheeks. She thinks she will always remember the way he looks when he laughs; he looks more charming than usual, and though she will never tell him, rather cute.

"It's not funny!" she snaps in a serious tone.

"It's pretty funny," he argues.

"Our professor just caught us snogging!"

Draco laughs even harder at that, and when she realizes the ridiculousness of it all, she laughs too. After the laughter has died down, she rests her head in the crook of his shoulder and takes in the warmth of his body, and notices they are swaying back in forth in their embrace.  
She could stay like this forever, but for now, they still have a desk to wash and twenty-three more file cabinets to sort.

::

He walks her out of detention just past midnight, his arm snaked around her waist. He decides he likes it when no one's out and he doesn't have to sneak around with her our pull her into an empty corridor to share a kiss. He occasionally stops to kiss her, just because he can. At these hours of the night, there is nothing stopping them; not blood status, not their different houses, their different sides. They are allowed to just be them.

"It's weird when it's this empty," he murmurs, stopping to press another kiss on the corner of her lips. "I always forget how big the castle is with all the people bustling about."

"It's easy to, isn't it?" she replies. She locks her honey colored eyes with his grey ones. "We don't have to fight it when it's like this. It's like there's no war."

He studies her as he grabs her hands, intertwining their fingers. "There is still a war, Granger. My kind is probably out killing Muggles right now."

"Don't call them your kind."

"Well, I'm still a part of their cause, aren't I?" he sighs. "You try so hard to forget what I am, but at the end of the day, I'm still a Death Eater."

"I know," she winces, and her eyes are suddenly teary. "We're on different sides. We're from completely different worlds. Just - just let me forget while I can, alright?"

He frowns. "It's not going to change anything, Granger."

"Please, Draco," she whispers. "I want to remember this without the memories clouded with stress."

He gives in, connecting their mouths in a soft kiss. He feels her smile against his lips, and it is both a gift and a curse to him. He pours his emotions into the movements of their mouths, knowing that he is far too invested in whatever this is. Somewhere along the way, Granger had made him forget, too.

"It breaks my heart, you know," he mumbles, pulling away from her. "That we'll be fighting each other in the end."

"Let's just promise each other," she swallows her tears. "If we're fighting in battle against each other, we'll protect each other; or try to."

"I've never really meant a promise, or made one, in my life," he mutters. "Except to my mother. But I can promise you that I won't hurt you physically, Granger. I couldn't live with myself if I did."

She pecks the corner of his mouth and wraps her arms around him, resting her head in his chest. "Goodnight, Draco."

He smirks at her before he releases his own grasp on her, kissing her cheek. "Goodnight, Granger."

::

But he doesn't return to bed that night. Instead he works on the Vanishing Cabinet, his brain buzzing the whole time with his ever present battle of his beliefs. He decides he must go into Borgin & Burkes, sighing as he steps through. He cracks the door, looking out and cursing internally when he sees, and hears, that Borgin is not alone. His aunt is screeching at him over something, and Draco steps out and walks across the shop to where they are.

An evil leer spreads across his aunt's face, and a shiver goes down his spine. "Well, well, well. Young Draco isn't questioning his loyalties to the Dark Lord anymore."

"I never was," he lies. "Parkinson simply enjoys running her mouth."

"Though I loathe your father, it's good to see you're like your father in this sense," Bellatrix remarks. "Your mother's time is ticking. The Dark Lord senses her reluctance. We are all waiting for her to stray… She seems far more interested in the Order."

"So he's going to kill her?" Draco grimaces.

"There isn't a plan," she answers. "But I'd certainly be considering it. She refused to kill a Muggle the other day. The Dark Lord wasn't happy about that."

"My mother's never killed anyone," Draco snaps. "Why would she start now?"

"How sweet," Bellatrix lets out a cold cackle. "Young Drakey defending his dear mummy. You're lucky it's me you're talking to, the Dark Lord would've killed you had you talked to him in that tone."

"It's not wrong to defend my mother, Bellatrix," he glares at her.

"Enough about my sister," she dismisses the conversation impassively, and as though it was nothing. He feels his blood boiling with rage, but he says nothing. "When are you killing Dumbledore?"

"S-soon," he stutters. "Soon."

She pats him on the back. "Good boy. Now shoo, I need to return to punishing Borgin for refusing the mark."

Draco eagerly leaves. He shouts obscenities the moment he returns, blowing up a whole pile of chairs towards the back of the room. He punches the cabinet, knowing there is no way he can avoid the fact he is going to be forced to leave anymore.

There is no way he can escape his life with the Death Eaters. There is no way he can turn back on killing Dumbledore. There is no way he can save his soul.

There is no way he can stay with Granger.

And at that thought, he destroys another pile of the random clutter of the room of hidden things.

He wishes there was hope hidden in this room.

::

Hermione heads over to McGonagall's office directly after breakfast Saturday, and she hesitates a few moments before knocking on the door to it.

"Come in," McGonagall calls from inside.

Hermione opens the door, entering and on the opposite side of McGonagall, resting her shaky hands on the desk between them. "I'm really sorry, Professor. Honestly, I truly am. It wasn't appropriate of me to be…" she trails off when she is momentarily in a daze at the memory of the heated kiss between her and Draco. "To be doing that with Draco during a detention."

"There is no need to apologize, Miss Granger. You're perhaps my favorite student," McGonagall replies. "I am not angry, perhaps worried more than anything else. Are you aware of the allegations of Draco Malfoy's loyalties?"

"I am."

"And surely you're aware of his prejudices?" McGonagall arches an eyebrow. "He has tormented you all through school because of your blood."

"He has," Hermione pauses and sighs. "He has looked passed them now, I think. He's not so cold anymore. He's a little rough around the edges, but I think there's something good in him."

Her wise mentor studies her for a few moments. "Albus sees Mr. Malfoy in the same light," she says cautiously. "But I believe he is a danger to others."

"The only person Draco is a danger to is himself-

"Perhaps that's true, Miss Granger!" McGonagall exclaims. "But it would be foolish to ignore the other possibilities. Your mind of all minds in this school should be able to realize that. Mr. Potter has his suspicions and has been sharing them with me. Surely you are to listen to your best friend?"

"I don't ignore them, or him," Hermione mumbles weakly. "I simply forget to remember the possibilities, Professor."

"When did all of this start?"

"In the fall. I meant to be his friend and then it just all sort of happened."

"I can not change your opinions, Granger," McGonagall mutters in defeat. "But I will keep your secret strictly confidential."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione says.

She leaves the classroom, a lump in her throat and so many negative realizations that she feels both nauseous and dizzy. His mission could be anything, and he could finish it any day now. There are only two and a half months of term left, and Merlin knows if they'll see each other after the summer with the way the war is going. The only chance may be on the battlefield.

She can't breathe.

"Prove them wrong, Draco," she whispers.

She takes a walk around the grounds alone and doesn't return to her dormitory until far after curfew.

Harry and Ron are playing Wizard's Chess in the Common Room when she returns, and they look up at her but ask no questions and let her retreat to her dormitory.

It begins to rain, and she is well aware that the world is crying, too.

::

She watches him during his Quidditch match against Ravenclaw on Sunday. He is distracted the whole time, but he still gets the snitch. She doesn't think she's seen him smirk so wide in a long time.

After the crowd has cleared, she waits for him under the bleachers of the Quidditch Pitch, waiting for him to join her. She is drenched and shivering from the rain. He struts in after only a few minutes, smirking at first and then frowning at how wildly she is shaking.

"You're shivering," he observes. "You look like you're dying of hypothermia."

"I-I-I'm f-f-fine," she replies through chattering teeth. "J-j-just a little ch-ch-chilly."

He begins unbuttoning his coat, and she furrows her brow.

"W-W-Why are you t-t-taking off your c-coat?"

He huffs a laugh and steps close to her, draping his coat over her shoulders and looking at her in a way she can't place. She shrugs into it easily, and is happy to find that it smells strongly of him

"You need it more than I do, Granger," he murmurs, ghosting a kiss on her forehead and wrapping his arm around her waist. He smirks to himself before he continues. "Besides, you're quite petite; only skin and bone. I've got my muscle to keep me warm."

She scowls at him. "Always humble."

"And perfect, of course," he adds. He looks away from her for a moment as if he is contemplating something. "Let's go on a walk, Granger."

"Okay," she responds. And though they have never really held hands before, he takes her hand in his and interlocks their fingers.

They walk in sync towards the lake, Draco remaining quiet until the sit at a picnic table at the water's edge. He sits across from her, still holding her hand in his. "I've been thinking."

"About how great you are, I'm sure," she teases, grinning.

He meets her honey gaze with his own grey one. "No, Granger. I've been thinking about us."

"So you dragged me out here to end this?" she guesses, a pit in her stomach.

"Opposite, actually," he replies hesitantly. "I've never been a sap. You know I'm not going to gush over you and kiss the ground you walk on like Weasley, but I'm fond of you. Everything about you, actually."

"It can't be that optimistic, Draco," she says knowingly. "I know you. Cut to the chase."

"We don't have much time," he admits, a sharp pain in his stomach as he the lingering thought aloud for the first time. "My mission is progressing and Saint Potter is surely progressing in whatever he's been doing with Dumbledore."

"I don't want to talk about the end," she blurts immediately. "I'm scared of what I'll do without this."

He is silent for a few moments before he looks at her. His eyes look sad and lost. "I'm scared in general, I think," he murmurs.

"We all are," she assures him.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

He is not sure if it would hurt him more if she said yes or if she said no. He knows if she does, he is breaking every bit of her trust the more and more things are coming together. He's going to kill someone; something that would shatter and betray all her hopes for him. And what's worst about it is that she is the only person who hopes about him.

"Yes," she answers after a moment. "I do, Draco."

He feels tears threatening his dignity, because he hasn't cried in so long and because there is so much to cry about. Everything is breaking. "Don't, Hermione," he pleads, choking back a sob. "Don't. Just try to enjoy the time we have left. You'll hate me after all this is over."

"I could never hate you, Draco," she confesses, praying to Merlin that she won't regret it later. "Even if I tried."

He sighs, standing up when she does and holding her face in his hands. "Your opinion will change."

"How bad is it?" she asks.

"You don't want to know, Granger," he answers. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Don't make it collapse before it needs to."

He furrows his brow with concern before pecking the corner of her lips. "I won't. I won't fight it anymore," he smirks at her. "I mean, we'll fight, but that's always been an unsaid agreement."

"Everything's going to cave in now, isn't it?" she inquires.

He nods. "Yes. And I'm just the catalyst."

"I wonder how different things would be if nothing had to fall apart."

"Then this never would've happened."

She isn't sure what's worse; feeling this for him and having him leave her broken-hearted in the end, or having never had him at all.

::

**Author's Note**

To the reviewers harassing me about writing in the present tense, please leave it alone. Stop saying no one writes in it, either, because 'The Fallout' is written in present tense and that's the most well known fic there is besides 'Isolation.' If it bothers you that much, don't read it. I'm not going to change the way I'm writing this just to suit your needs and it's honestly irritating as hell to read that over and over. It's usually on guest reviews and I just delete them because it is one thing to give constructive criticism on grammar and spelling, but it is another to criticize something that is obviously the author's decision. This is my vision, not yours, so don't read it if it bothers you. End of story.


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